by Ami Snow
Natasia sighed as she opened Aurora's journal, expecting to find it either untouched or marked with profanities. She smiled, surprised, as she found what appeared to be a lengthy entry, inked in beautiful cursive. As she read on, the smile on her face slowly vanished. Her eyebrows furrowed as it began to dawn on her – it was all here – Vicente's apparent late nights, his sudden change in behavior and appetite. She dove for her phone. The number went straight to voicemail.
Natasia whispered into the receiver, “I know what you are.”
Six –
Natasia urged the driver to keep the change, thanked him, and hopped off the cab. She shielded her eyes from the blinding rays of the sunlight as she stood slack-jawed and mind-boggled at the staggering stature of the Harland Mansion. The structure was four stories tall, and had a rosewood colored, gabled roof. The antiquated, sandy color of the bath stone was captivating against the daylight. There was a large door between tall, ivory white Corinthian pillars. Massive steel gates engraved with classic celtic designs surrounding the stunning property.
“Admiring the property, eh?”
“It's absolutely breathtaking.”
Vicente appeared from around the corner, sauntering towards her. Instead of his usual suit, he had on a shabby tan coat and a black baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. His jaded eyes were bloodshot, and his thin, whitened lips looked dry and scaly. He led her to a secluded forested area behind his property, seeking refuge in the cool shade of two maple oaks.
Vicente handed Natasia a foam paper cup. He lifted the cover off his cup, the intoxicating twang of alcohol drifting into her nostrils. He produced a silver flask from his coat and proceeded to pour a dark liquid into his cup. She looked at him quizzically.
“Don't worry. I got you coffee.”
“Thanks,” said Natasia, taking a sip.
“Listen, Natasia, what happened the other night –”
“No, I'm not here to talk about that right now.”
“I'm sorry.”
Natasia tried again, “You don't look too good. How are you holding up?”
“Not good. The alcohol keeps me from changing,” said Vicente throatily, “But it's also causing extreme inebriation.”
“I'm so sorry, Principal Harland. I can't even imagine what you're going through.”
“Vicente – please, stop referring to me as Principal Harland,” snapped Vicente.
“Sorry – Vicente, how did this all start?” asked Natasia, taking note of the sudden animosity in his voice.
“I can't even remember. Something attacked me when I was on vacation with my family one night in Barcelona. It's all a blur. I don't even know what's happening to me,” said Vicente, as he lifted the pant of his leg, revealing a curved, pink slash on his skin, trailing from his knee to his ankle, weathered and caked in old, brown blood. Natasia gasped.
“My world's come crashing down on me,” continued Vicente, “I can't stop – changing – my wife and I no longer share the same bed. Aurora despises me with every fiber in her body. They don't understand. I can't stop drinking. I'm losing it, I really am.”
“I think I can explain. You're a lycanthrope – in simpler terms, you were attacked by a werewolf.”
“A what, now?”
“A werewolf – you change – or rather, shift – into a wolf creature of some sort,” said Natasia matter-of-factly.
“You are aware that I'm the principal of one of the most prestigious academies in the state.”
“The scar on your leg. I think you were attacked by one, and you were infected –”
“Infected?” Vicente's eyes lit up, “You mean there's a cure?”
Natasia's voice trembled, “There's no cure.”
“You're telling me, I'm going to stay this fucking way forever? A fucking monster?” Vicente roared, hurling his flask on the ground.
A low, rumbling gnarl rumbled out of his mouth. Natasia backed away, her eyes wide in dreadful panic. His body began to convulse violently, his muscles and limbs grotesquely contorting, jerking around in awkward angles. His clothing was now a shredded heap of fabric. She watched the excruciating transformation, unable to tear her eyes away. He had a dense coat of eggshell white fur, pink felt, pointed ears, and his beady eyes glowed like sapphires. His mouth twisted into a menacing snarl, white froths of foam gathering in his mouth.
Without warning, Vicente pounced on Natasia, their weight rocking the earth beneath them as they landed on the grass. Her body shook uncontrollably, tears trilling down her cheeks as she desperately turned away. She yelped, feeling the hot, putrid stench of his breath beating down her face, the sticky substance of his thick saliva, dripping down the edges of his teeth, hitting her face like bullets. He lingered above her, the breath from his flared nostrils coming out in heavy huffs. He leaped off, shifting back to his human form.
“I'm – I'm so sorry,” he choked, as he crouched over her.
Natasia sat up, smearing her sleeve across her face. Vicente leaned forward, his eyes pleading, the contrite desperation blatant on his face.
“I'm hurting everyone around me – I'm so sorry –”
He burst into tears, screaming out in desperation. She wiped his tears from his face and hushed him. Their lips met in a nimble kiss. She pulled away after a few moments, caressing his firm cheekbones. Natasia breathed in his musky scent as he nestled her against him. Neither wanted to break free from their embrace.
“Please, take me home.”
Natasia stumbled into her apartment, slamming the door shut behind her. She dropped her bag on the floor and bounded for her bedroom. She collapsed in a heap on her mattress, deep fatigue washing over her. Within moments of her head striking the pillow, she was fast asleep.
Seven –
Natasia propped herself up against a velvet pillow, purring softly as her back melted into the cushion, twirling the golden tassels between her fingers. She shut her eyes, her fingers grazing the egyptian cotton, silk blend sheets that canvased the mattress, a stunning shade of turquoise blue. She looked down, puzzled. She wondered why she had on her licorice black, lace trimmed nightgown. The last time she wore this, her heart belonged to another man. Even more so – why wasn't she wearing anything underneath?
The dark, frigid room was overcast by a strange, misty white fog. Natasia breathed in the sweetened, earthly smell, resembling sandalwood, drifting through the air. Anxiety slowly crept over her body as she grew increasingly perplexed about her surroundings. It was almost pitch-black; the only source of illumination was from a row of candles seemingly suspended in midair.
Two looming figures crawled out of the shadows. Vicente and Wei appeared, towering over her in their lycan form. The flawless white and the glossy black of their fur glowed under the candlelight. Dropping on all fours, they continued to crawl towards her, breathing vigorously through their snouts. Simultaneously, they sprang from their hind legs, transforming in mid-jump into their naked human forms.
Natasia gasped, her heart drumming against her chest as her eyes fell instinctively to the dangling manhood between their legs, shrouded with bushes of dark hair. Vicente's frame was lean and somewhat gaunt, his complexion pallid, whereas Wei was athletic and firm-chested, his slightly leathery skin slick and bronzed. They stood at the edge of the bed, peering down at her, the same look of yearning frenzy wild in their eyes. Vicente traced a finger from her nose to her lips. Wei wrapped one hand around the pole between his legs, slowly sliding up and down as he eyed the deep, shadowy line of Natasia's heavy cleavage. They each slipped a hand under the hem of her nightgown and slowly pulled it over her head.
“Face down, ass up,” breathed Wei.
She complied, burying her face in the pillow, sprawled out across the bed, her voluptuous buttocks raised, supporting her frame with her elbows and nervous knees. Her heart pounded, her ears buzzing as the warm, sticky juice leaking down the insides of her thighs. She flinched, her knees quivering, as she felt the moist jabs of their tongues, flick
ing against the creases of her buttocks. Her knotted hair matted against her sweaty cheeks, the sound from her mouth stifled by the pillow.
Vicente kneeled over Natasia, the pole between his legs swelling as he grabbed hold of her plump, pendant breasts, slightly spilling out the cups of his hand. He hungrily caressed them as they lightly swung back and forth. He forced his head between the supple cushions of her milky white breasts, breathing deeply, swirling his tongue, the brine of her heated perspiration in his mouth. He separated her breasts and released them, the globes of her breasts smacking his cheeks loudly. His tongue circled around the large, light brown areola that centered her breast. He covered her puffy nipple with his mouth and began sucking, twisting her other nipple with his free hand.
“You're so fucking beautiful. Every fucking bit of you.” The sound of Wei's husky voice sent electrifying chills down her spine.
Wei spread her legs apart further, her thick thighs gently jiggling as he positioned her, his hands clenched under her buttocks. He breathed in the strong, musky scent of her vagina as he began to skim the folds delicately with his fingertips, before suddenly slipping in a long, curved finger, sliding in and out rhythmically. Her knees threatening to buckle, she let out a sultry moan.
Without a word, the pair suddenly turned her over to her back, their fingernails digging into the creases of her fleshy hips. The buxom curves of her stomach flattened as Natasia lay trembling, the insides of her thighs glistening. Vicente hovered over her, his hand firmly gripped around his throbbing cock, smiling as he pushed the pink tip past her lips. Natasia gagged as the length grazed the back of her throat, her eyes welling up as Vicente held the back of her head. Wei shoved his head between her legs, wolfishly lapping at her folds, tugging at the button of her clit gently with his teeth. She clawed at the sheets, her body writhing in pleasure, his goatee moist with her juices, and his beard tickling the insides of her thighs.
“Daddy?”
Natasia jerked her head to the side. Aurora stood before them, dressed in a flowing white nightgown. Her vibrant red hair seemed dull, hanging limply past her shoulders. Her mouth hung open, her feet rooted to the ground in shock. Her piercing blue eyes were a flat shade of gunmetal gray. A deeply pained expression spread across her face. In an instant, her eyes glowed crimson, her lips unfurling as she released a piercing, blood-curling scream.
Natasia bounced up, her eyes snapping open. Twitching and disoriented, she rubbed her eyes furiously. She looked around at her surroundings in utter confusion, sighing in relief as she recognized the messy clutter that was her bedroom.
Eight –
Natasia paced back and forth in the hallway, restlessly gnawing on her fingernails. Her troubled thoughts drowned out the bustle of students that pushed their way past her. She rubbed her slippery palms on the sides of her skirt, as she mentally evaluated what she had prepared herself to say. She was terribly anxious, even a little frightened, but she knew she had to stay firm. She knew what she had to do, and she was ready. She pushed open the door to the office.
Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach at the sight of Vicente, clad in a cobalt blue suit, hunched over his desk as he stared absentmindedly at the stack of documents on his desk. His eyes lit up as they met hers, a genuine smile blossoming across his face. Her heart fluttered, looking away. She dropped a heavy brown paper bag on his desk.
“Natasia, what's all this?” asked Vicente with a questioning expression on his face.
“I want you to get help. This bag is filled with ingredients, ranging from basil to wormwood to rattlesnake venom – made into a concoction, this will help the pain from shifting, and maybe even keep things under control.”
“Venom? I think I'd rather stay put,” repeated Vicente, the creases next to his eyes wrinkling as he laughed, stopping short as he was met with silence.
“I'm serious. I want you to get help. I can't stand seeing you like this,” said Natasia, tearing her eyes away from his gaze.
“I'm sorry, Natasia. I was just trying to – I don't know. I know this is serious, you know I know that. I've lost everyone around me, and I do need help. I don't even – I can't even think about how I almost hurt you the other day without completely breaking down. I want you to help –”
“No,” said Natasia stiffly.
“What?”
“Talk to Aurora,” she continued, her voice wavering as she handed him a thick, leather-bound book with a blank cover, its pages yellowed with age. “I got this from...a friend. It's got everything you need to know. You don't have to be alone in this.”
“Wait, please – what are you saying?” said Vicente, his eyes narrowed as he looked at her imploringly. He pushed the book to the side, and reached over. He grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly.
“I can't do this with you,” said Natasia, her voice heavy with emotion, as tears sprang to her eyes, “I had my heart broken and it was the most horrible, most excruciating pain I've ever felt in my life. I craved for someone to finally just love me – just love me for who I am –”
“I'm so sorry.”
“I was cheated on.”
“What?”
“I was cheated on,” repeated Natasia, “We were engaged to be married and he slept with another woman. I'm being selfish. I should know better than anyone else, how it feels to be cheated on – what you hear about heartbreak isn't an exaggeration. Your heart feels like it was literally ripped out of your chest, and this hollow, empty feeling swallows you from the inside.”
“Natasia, please, I know what you're thinking –”
“I can't do this with you. All this hurt, all this pain I had to go through, I refuse to inflict on anyone else. I refuse to be the other woman,” said Natasia quietly, wriggling her hands free from his. She brushed away her tears with her sleeve.
“I don't have anyone left – please.” His soft voice trembled, a burning sensation ripping through his chest.
“No – don't say that,” said Natasia as she rose from her seat, walking over to his side. She placed her hands firmly upon his shoulders and gripped hard, the fabric of his suit rumpling under her grasp.
“I can't let them see me this way, how the hell am I supposed to let them know?” said Vicente, his tone escalating in frustration. “You're the only one I can talk to, Natasia.”
“You've got an amazing family, a beautiful house. I can't get in the middle of that – I won't let myself.”
“But I –” Vicente was frantic.
“I know how much Aurora means to you – how much your wife means to you–” the word left a slightly bitter taste in her mouth, “you love them, don't you?”
“Yes, of course. With all my heart.”
“Right.” Her heart withered slightly at his admission, but she instantaneously composed herself, knowing it was what she had to do.
“You know your family loves you. They'd do anything for you. I'm not saying it's gonna be easy, but keeping this from them has already torn your family apart. You need to tell them now – before it's too late.”
Natasia wrapped her arms around his shoulders, as he buried his head in her chest, the feminine, lilac fragrance of her perfume clinging to the hairs of his nostrils. She breathed in the minty scent of his aftershave as she ran her hands through his hardened, gelled hair. His silent tears dampened the sheerness of her blouse, his body quivering as he struggled to catch his breath. She pulled him closer to her embrace.
“Just hold me, for now,” said Vicente softly.
Natasia pushed the glass doors open, and bounded down the front steps of Cedar Creek Academy. Wei was waiting at the foot of the steps, his arms crossed, his famously crooked smile playing on his lips. Her face brightened as he leaned in for a quick peck. Before he could react, she slipped a hand behind his head and pulled him close and pressed her lips against his, as their lips locked in a drawn, passionate kiss. Wei softened, crumpling in her arms, as the blood rushed to his ears.
“What was that for?” Wei gri
nned.
“Nothing.”
“You ready to go?” asked Wei, reaching for her hand.
“Yes, let's –”
The side door of the building swung open. A mob of students poured out of the doorway, followed by Vicente and Aurora. Vicente pulled his trench-coat close, the locks of Aurora's bright red hair floating past her shoulders as they descended the steps. Their heads were lowered, the pair lost in deep conversation. Vicente's eyes wandered aimlessly, stopping short as his eyes met Natasia's. He nodded at her, and managed a faint smile as he placed an arm behind Aurora's back, ushering her forward. Natasia watched as they disappeared into the crowd.
“Yes, I'm ready.”
THE END
Bitten by Passion
VAMPIRE ROMANCE
By: Jennifer Mckenzie
Bitten Twice
Growing up, I used to love gothic horror novels. Horror novels in general, really, but it was the Victorian ones that really got me. Edgar Allen Poe’s tales of haunted houses and ghosts, Mary Shelley’s mad scientist, and of course, Bram Stoker’s vampire. I have to admit, I never understood why the heroine of that one picked her silly, proper husband over the dark, sexy Dracula. I would’ve gone with him in a flash.
Maybe it’s because I read it first when I was really starting to notice boys, about fourteen or so, but I’ve always found the idea of vampires very sexy. My first kiss was with a boy at a Halloween party, my junior year of high school, and he was dressed up as a vampire. He was a terrible kisser, but when he moved down to my neck, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.
Other than that, I didn’t have much experience with boys in high school. I had braces and no sense of style and I was fat. Not “curvy”, or “voluptuous”…just fat. I used to read the descriptions of the sensual women in those old novels, and I wanted to look like them. So, when I got to college, I promptly took advantage of the free gym, and the girlfriends I made in the book club that was always being advertised in the building where I took classes for my literature major. When I expressed my desire to look like one of the voluptuous beauties from the 1940s and 50s, showing them the pictures I had stuck to my dorm room walls of burlesque dancers and Hollywood movie stars, they were quick to teach me the ins and outs of hair styling and makeup. The result was that, by the end of my freshman year, I’d shed all my baby fat and had emerged as the lovely, curvaceous beauty that I had longed to be…and I was ready to try out my new look.
