by K D Grace
Skin Deep
by Kat Black
I love the smell of a summer’s night in the city. Nowhere more so than here, in the club district, where the young and vibrant come to seek their nocturnal hedonistic pleasures. In the guise of a human man I come also, to hunt, drawn by the irresistible lure of life at its most decadent.
Tonight, sweat and desire saturate the humid air, drenching my senses and coating my tongue with the dark, velvety taste of sin – my favourite flavour. I draw the essence deep, sharpening the already keen edge of the Hunger, tensing every fibre of my being in anticipation of the coming chase.
Ignoring the crowds that wander the streets, I descend the stairs to a nightclub named Skin, where the patrons like to wear just that and very little else. Without slowing at the entrance, I cast the doorman a glance over the top of my dark glasses. His eyes pop wide as they meet the otherworldly glow of mine then glaze over before the shock of the impossible has a chance to fully register. He shivers as I pass, but sees nothing and will remember even less. Better for him that I go about my nightly business undetected.
Once inside, I slip through the shadows and stake claim to a vantage point along the rear wall. The place feels hot as hell, and if I were classified a member of the warm-blooded humanity packed tight in here, I’d already be melting inside my heavy leathers. But I’m no such animal. I’m the stone-cold stuff of their nightmares, instead – the monster lurking in their midst.
If only they knew.
Behind the private tug of amusement pulling at my lips, my tongue runs over the stiletto-sharp tip of one elongated canine in anticipation. Propping a shoulder against the wall, I cross my arms over my chest and, with a patience born of centuries, settle down to wait and watch.
Under pulsing Technicolor lights, the dance-floor heaves with a press of bodies getting down to a hard-funk beat. Into the undulating mass, a fresh group of semi-clad young things strut their way, driving like a wedge through the crowds.
With Mediterranean-dark good looks, they move with a loose-limbed, sensuous grace – beautiful, desirable, and knowing how to make the best of both. Laughing, they begin to dance, teasing and titillating, and as the air around me grows heavy with lust-laced pheromones, it’s obvious I’m not the only one captivated by their sultry show.
However, while the human desire is directed at all the smooth olive skin on display, my own cravings run a little deeper – to the promised pleasure of the warm spiced blood coursing beneath the surface of that firm flesh.
I find my interest piqued by the tallest of the group – a new-grown man with glossy black curls and the taut vitality of his youth evident in the lean physique revealed by the shirt he wears unbuttoned. Full of the arrogance of youth, he radiates confidence and pride, and out of instinct the alpha in me stirs, flexing its own muscles in response to the perceived challenge.
Into my mind flashes a vivid picture of the male and I locked in a desperate embrace. Grappling chest to chest, he pits every last ounce of strength against me in the battle for dominance, his attempts to keep my deadly teeth from puncturing the vulnerable skin of his throat heroic, yet ultimately futile…
The Hunger rakes its claws, nearly bending me double and my body hardens in readiness for just such a fight.
Not that there’s the slightest need for things to get rough, if the truth be told. Like all of my immortal kind, I’m blessed with the talent to hold my prey in a state of hypnotic suspension, thereby sparing them the trauma they’re otherwise so prone to suffer. In the case of this cocky young buck, though, I can’t seem to find it in me to be merciful. Not if it means denying myself the intoxicating taste of his testosterone-fuelled, adrenaline-laced terror.
The mere thought of the sweet taste of fear has my canines throbbing and lengthening in a visceral reaction I wouldn’t do anything to stop if I could. What can I say? I’m as much a slave to my nature as the next beast.
Focusing my will, I begin to send the first wisps of mental suggestion the male’s way. Before long I have sufficient power of persuasion over his mind to begin directing him away from the security of his friends and toward the fire exit situated in the far corner. Reining in the sense of urgency triggered by the ravenous demands of the Hunger, I have him move slowly, steadily – subtly guiding his movements through the crowd so as not to raise suspicion. Only when he nears the exit do I emerge from the shadows and move to join him by the door, careful to keep my teeth hidden behind my predatory grin.
As I close the distance between us, I’m delighted to note that my prey has worked up a nice sweat, leaving his skin slick and salty and deliciously lickable. Docile and obedient as a pet dog, he waits as I reach up and lower my glasses. A second of eye contact is all it takes to have his dark, liquid gaze widening with terror, but before he can so much as squeak in fear, I have him well and truly bent to my will.
Leaning in close to make myself heard over the pounding beat of the music, I’m met by the piquant tang of heat rising from his body. Saliva pools.
‘There’s a door behind you,’ I instruct. ‘Turn around and leave ...’
‘Excuse me.’ A small female steps in from the side, barging into the narrow space between us. ‘There’s no way out here. It’s an emergency exit only.’
The untimely distraction is minor but an annoyance all the same. ‘Yes,’ I say, and without shifting my gaze away from my dark-eyed treat, I weave a subtle thread of compulsion into my tone. ‘But my friend here is feeling unwell. We’re just stepping out for a breath of air.’
Instead of the automatic acceptance and retreat I expect, the female stands her ground. ‘I’m sorry, the door is alarmed. I can’t allow you to do that.’
Allow? She can’t allow me? The sheer audacity of anyone – anything – presuming such authority over me shocks me into breaking my focus, leaving the male blinking in dazed confusion as the bonds of the thrall unravel.
Hastily refocusing, I re-establish control and, perturbed at finding myself wrong-footed by this female, forego finesse in favour of issuing her a blunt command. ‘Go away.’
‘No,’ she returns just as bluntly. ‘Not until you release this man and leave my club.’
Her resistance is no less shocking the second time around but I manage to keep my eyes locked on target and my prey tethered. Just. Never, in all my long years, have I encountered a human capable of withstanding my will the way this female seems to be doing, and I have to admit that I don’t much like making the discovery now.
I ensure that my next delivery carries the weight of a mental punch. ‘You need to walk away from here right now and forget this encounter.’
From the corner of my eye I see the female stagger as if from a physical blow, hands flying up to clutch her head. I feel a spurt of reassurance and satisfaction before, unbelievably, she straightens and says, ‘You can’t control me, I know what you’re up to.’
This time she really does break my concentration as the meaning of her words ring like warning bells. I look down at the female for the first time.
She’s tiny – delicate and petite, although obviously lacking the sweet, diminutive personality to match. She’s dressed to party in a next-to-nothing black dress that clings to every feminine curve, but the determined glint in her eye means all business. Beneath the bravado, however, her pulse hammers, the tell-tale tic at the side of her neck indicating a high level of fear. Even so, I’m convinced she thinks she’s dealing with the illegal sale of drugs or sex here. There’s no way she could know what I’m really up to. If she had the slightest inkling of the truth she’d be running for her life instead of standing there daring to face up to me.
As tempting as the notion is to teach her a lesson in minding her own business, I’m not prepared to sacrifice my prime catch simply for the pleasure of a game of cat and mouse. Given her size, the female would make a poor substitute, barely big enough to quench my thirst.
And as inconvenient and astounding as it is to find her so resistant to
my mental authority, there’s no doubt that, physically, she’s no match at all. By employing the strength and speed of my kind, I can have my tasty Mediterranean out and away so fast that no one will be able to stand in my way.
Dismissing the female from my mind, I turn my attention back to the waiting male, only to find him gone … stumbling his way back through the crowd to the safety of his friends. The Hunger roars in denial, furious at the sight of my dinner walking away.
With deliberate slowness, I turn the full force of my displeasure back toward the female. Anger getting the better of caution, I reach up and remove my glasses, wanting her to see for herself exactly how much danger she’s landed herself in.
With some satisfaction, I watch the blood drain from her face and her eyes grow huge. But instead of fainting as I half expect she might, she swallows convulsively and dares to stare right into the luminescent silver depths of my eyes.
‘I know what you are,’ she stutters.
In a flash I have her by the scruff of the neck and out of the fire door, utilising that strength and speed to take us well away from the clamouring sound of the alarm and any responding pursuit. Half way down a deserted alley, I swing into a shadowed doorway and push her against the door. Using the weight of my body I hold her pinned, leaving her dainty feet dangling a foot off the ground.
‘You might think you know me, little girl.’ I lean close and snarl right into her face. ‘But you’ve no idea of the trouble you’re really in.’
‘I d … do know.’ She can barely choke the words out past the terror squeezing her lungs and I have to give her points for courage. With one hand she attempts to push me away, while with the other she scrabbles around in the neckline of her top. Pulling out the end of a long silver chain, she brandishes a crucifix at me. ‘I’ve been w … watching you for weeks. You’re a vampire.’
I’m stunned that she appears to know the truth, but given her current predicament, see no need to deny it. I laugh nastily, making sure she gets a good eyeful of long, sharp fang. ‘And who the hell do you think you are – Buffy the Slayer?’ Wrapping my hand around the useless talisman, I rip it from around her neck and toss it away, gaze locking on the thin red graze left by the rough pull of the chain … and the pulse ticking hard and fast beneath it.
‘Oh God, don’t you bite me!’ She struggles harder as she registers the intent stamped on my features. Her heart races flat out, pitter-pattering through the layers of our clothing to tickle against my ribs. ‘I’ll scream!’
She really hadn’t taken the time to think this through to the end, had she?
‘I don’t doubt it, darling.’ I clamp a hand over her mouth and use it to push her chin to the side, stretching out the long line of her neck. Leaning down, I inhale her scent, running my face from clavicle to jaw. She smells good enough to eat. ‘It’s really just a question of how loud,’ I say with soft menace into her ear.
With that she goes wild. Screeches muffled against my palm, she lashes out with hands and feet, elbows and knees. She scratches and hits and kicks, hair flying around her and skin growing flushed as she fights for her very life.
All of which the beast in me absolutely loves.
Goaded, ravenous, I go straight for the jugular, teeth piercing through gossamer-fine skin to sink deep into the hot, living rush of arterial blood.
The female’s taste explodes in my mouth, exotic and lush and heavily spiked with adrenaline, and as I swallow down the first mouthful and feel the glorious heat of her spread to every cold, dark corner of my being, I know I’m never going to be able to get enough. A noise rumbles up from my chest, like a big cat’s victorious growl, and I pull her even closer, sucking hard so as not to miss a single precious drop.
Even as she fights to stop her life force flowing into me, something about her struggle changes and the female begins to moan and writhe in my hold, her body heating, loosening, blossoming. With a jolt I realise that she’s one of those rare humans susceptible to the erotic rapture of my vampiric bite. This interesting fact has barely time to register before she takes me by surprise yet again, and bites me back.
The effect is instant, thrilling. The sting of her blunt little teeth sinking into the flesh at the base of my thumb, combined with her sudden full-blown arousal has my own body responding with need, my cock lengthening and hardening with every new pulse-beat of blood coursing between us. Her taste tells me she’s inflamed and terrified in equal measure, and the cocktail of sweet female musk and even sweeter fear blazes across my senses, igniting my basest urges to fight, feed, fuck.
My head begins to spin with the primal frenzy of it all, and the Hunger howls in delight when the female’s fingers tangle in my hair, pulling my feasting mouth closer and holding me where I most want to be.
With her flailing hands now otherwise occupied, my own take the opportunity to do some exploring. Propping a thigh between both of hers to keep her pinned aloft, I run my palms down over her curves, taking in the swell of her breasts with the hard-peaked nipples, the tiny waist which my fingers can almost span, and the fertile flare of her hips.
Down her thighs my palms glide, slipping beneath the hem of her short black dress and sliding the clingy jersey up as I head to cup the rounded cheeks of her buttocks.
She’s an exquisite little thing, womanly and ripe, and given the explosive way she reacts to the brush of my fingertips against her damp underwear, she’s thoroughly caught in the throes of carnal ecstasy.
‘Please,’ she begs so nicely that my need peaks in answer to the frantic call of hers. I rip the underwear right off her body as she lifts her legs to wrap them around my hips.
‘Hurry ...’ she gasps, rubbing and rocking her pelvis against mine.
My sentiments exactly. Manoeuvring a hand between our bodies, I wrestle to release my engorged shaft from the too-tight confines of my trousers. Once free, I grasp her under the thighs and lift her onto me. Unable to wait another second, I drive straight up into her hot, molten core, sheathing myself to the hilt in one move.
Her cry drowns out my muffled one as I grind right into the centre of her amazing heat. Every pull of my mouth on her vein is answered lower down by a spasm of muscle clenching around my cock. She can’t seem to get close enough, hands all over me, grasping and grabbing, nails raking and clawing as she pulls us together like she’s trying to meld us into one.
The skin beneath my lips burns with a sexual flush and shudders begin wracking the female’s small frame. And then she’s coming, fast and hard, her body bowed taut, straining between the deep double penetration of my cock and fangs. Locked onto her screaming throat, my mouth is flooded with honeyed, orgasm-spiked blood even as her body weeps its silky release over the length of my iron-hard erection.
The grasping, squeezing grip of her body sees me undone and I follow her over the edge, shattering with such force it’s like a starburst in my head – blinding and burning and brilliant.
I gradually return to awareness to find the female sighing and slumping against me, pleading to her god over and over again in a broken murmur. She’s weak, her pulse fluttering as her heartbeat stutters, and now that the Hunger has been satiated it’s time for me to make the ultimate choice.
Given all that she knows about me, as well as her extraordinary resistance to my influence which leaves me unable to wipe the memory of our encounter from her mind, there’s no question as to how this should end.
I shudder at the dragging pull of flesh over the sensitised enamel of my canines as I withdraw my teeth. The female’s head lolls to the side revealing a livid burgundy-coloured bruise that darkens a good portion of her neck – evidence that I’ve not been at all gentle with her.
‘Now let that be a lesson to you.’ Her gaze is fogged and unfocused as she mutters nonsense. ‘Don’t think you can come around to my club and just help yourself to my customers.’ Her eyes roll back and she slips into exhausted unconsciousness.
I feel a tug of genuine amusement play on my lips as
I look down at the plucky little thing in my arms. I haven’t a clue as to how or why something so tiny and insignificant should have the strength to resist my persuasive powers, let alone the courage to dare bait me, and I suspect that for the sake of a continued uncomplicated existence, I really shouldn’t care.
But I find myself intrigued. There’s definitely more to this female than meets the eye. There are more answers to find, more surprises to uncover – not to mention further womanly tastes to explore, other warm, wet places into which to sink both my cock and my teeth.
And so, against my better judgement I find myself running my tongue over the puncture wounds in her neck, allowing my saliva to help slow the bleeding before I return her limp form to the stairwell behind Skin.
Propping her like a rag doll against the wall, I force open the fire door to activate the alarm once more and retreat to the shadows. I wait long enough to witness club security arrive and fuss around her, feeling no apprehension about what the female might say once she regains consciousness. Who would believe the tale she has to tell?
The important thing is that I know where to find her when I’m ready to come asking my questions. And, as she’s carried inside, head drooping over the arm of her rescuer to expose the delectable arch of her throat, the Hunger resurges, demanding that she be subjected to a full and thorough interrogation. Sooner rather than later.
Airfield
by James Hornby
It is night again and stars have begun their celestial dance. Here on earth a gentle night breeze rushes over fields, trees and hedgerows before whispering in through her open window. It tickles her face as she dreams of a magical night on horn-white beaches where fires crackle and music plays.
The girl before her, a few inches shorter, rises on to her toes and kisses her. She can feel the caress of the girl’s cool, sweet breath on her cheek; the pressure of the girl’s body against her own; pressing soft, warm. She feels the nipples of the girl through her silk dress, they are hard and erect.
