Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ A Matter Of Choice ❯ First Blood ( Chapter 4 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Demetriov is living in his nightmare, trapped between fear and the will to survive. How will he cope when he has to take the next step?

Disclaimer: This is an original work that has been in progress for nine years. While I have taken inspiration from a number of sources, the characters and plot line are entirely my own. Anyone wishing to use my characters must contact me for permission FIRST.

In later chapters there will be graphic violence, gore and scenes of a sexual nature - both homo and hetero sexual. There will also be character death. I am not responsible if you do not read this disclaimer and do not like the graphic content.

Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Supernatural / Romance / Horror / Hentai | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 02.21.2007 | Pages: 4 | Words: 3.3K | Visits: 222 | Status: Work In Progress

First Blood

Demetriov woke up in complete darkness. He felt an instant of panic, thinking that he had been buried. He flung his hands out only to touch the oak of the casket he laid in. It was then that he remembered all that had gone the night before. As he lay there thinking he knew instinctively that it was night outside. Accompanying that thought was a strange sensation. No it wasn't strange, only experienced in a different way. He felt hunger as he had never felt it before. It seemed to fill every inch of his body. His skin was tingling and alive with the sensation.

He sighed, realising that he would have to face his new existence and Avéa sometime. He reached out to the lid of the casket and pushed. The heavy oak lid moved with ease and Demetriov managed to open the casket and sit up with little effort. As he rose to his feet he saw Avéa sat by the fireplace waiting for him. He stepped out of his sleeping place and walked to her side, enjoying the warmth of the fire.

“I wondered when you would wake.” She said after a moment.

“I'm new to this. I wasn't sure where I was for a moment.”

“I know. Are you feeling hungry?”

“Yes.” He sighed.

“Different to what you are used to isn't it?”

“Different doesn't come close to describing it.” He smiled wryly.

“There are no words to accurately describe what we feel and experience.” Avéa replied wistfully.

“So what happens now?”

“The start of a new life. Tonight we must feed. And I must begin to teach you all that you can do. With the change come new abilities. You will have to learn how to use them.”

She rose and faced him for the first time that night. She looked so different with his new sight. No longer pale, she seemed to have a heavenly glow surrounding her. The shine in her hair was picked out by the firelight, and her were eyes the most gorgeous shade of green. She was truly beautiful. He watched her in wonder as she approached the door.

“Come Demetriov.” She beckoned.

With a resigned nod he followed her out into the night. What he saw was difficult to take in. He had become aware of the vibrancy of the night as they had come to the cottage the night before, but he had obviously missed so much, distracted as he was. Now he took a moment to look around him and take it all in properly. The night shone with a vibrancy he had never known. He remembered being enchanted with the morning in his cell, but this was ten times more beautiful.

“It's beautiful.” He breathed.

“Isn't it just?” She replied with a smile.

“I never knew it could be like this.”

“Human eyes are not all they are cracked up to be. Now, how well do you know this land?”

“Intimately. These are my lands, or at least they were. As a boy I have travelled to every town and village in the province.”

“That has served us well. It will be in those towns and villages that we will feed. Superstition serves us well. They all point the finger at each other and never locate the source of death.”

“You couldn't be more unpleasant about this if you tried.” Demetriov replied, expressing his distaste.

“I am only being honest.” She smiled, taking pleasure from his distress. He amused her. “You will learn Demetriov, and you will lose your disgust. You will see.”

“I am not so sure.” He replied with caution.

“Come. We must go. Take my hand.”

“I'd rather not.”

“Then you will go hungry.” She laughed at him.

Reluctantly he gave Avéa his hand. Suddenly a wind seemed to envelop the two. It felt like a howling gale was pulling at his clothes, wind pulling at his hair. He had to squeeze his eyes shut, the rush of air stinging his eyes. As suddenly as it had started, it stopped.

Demetriov opened his eyes cautiously. As he looked around he found himself in a small village on the opposite side of the territory. He couldn't understand it. In a matter of seconds they had travelled miles. He turned to Avéa, his face a picture of wonderment. She smiled at his amazement.

“A favourite little spot of mine.” She explained.

“How did we? Can I?”

“Yes you can, and I will teach you in time. The how does not matter right now.”

“Is that how you appeared and disappeared when you visited me?”

“Yes.”

“It explains a few things.”

“Now, we are wasting valuable time. We must eat.”

“I am not relishing that.”

“That may change.”

“We shall see.”

She turned and walked away into the shadows. He followed close behind her. He was acutely aware that however unpleasant this business of feeding may be, it would be a necessary evil. His fear of death was still fresh in his mind. He knew how starving people died normally, and he could only imagine how much more horrible it would be now his senses were sharper. He shuddered at the thought.

They kept to the shadows, moving like wraiths in the night. It was not long before they came to a tavern. He listened, his hearing now allowing him to accurately hear the voices of the people inside. He listened to their petty squabbles, the gossip and fears of these people. There was also talk of him, his disappearance and his lack of action over the vampire issue. If only they could have known what the reality of it was.

“It seems there is a price on your head Demetriov.” Avéa smiled at the thought.

“It is not altogether surprising.”

“No it's not.”

“What are we doing here?”

“The drunks are easy food and nobody cries too much about them. They see it as a result of wickedness and sin.”

“Doesn't stop the hysteria.”

“You don't have to worry about that any more.”

“Doesn't stop me thinking about it.”

“So human Demetriov. That will change.”

“I don't think so.” He began to argue.

“Shh!” She clamped a hand over his mouth.

He promptly pulled it away, more than a little annoyed. Avéa pointed out why she had silenced him so suddenly. He looked down the alleyway to see a figure of a man. He was leaning on the door post of the tavern. A sharp smell invaded his senses and suddenly Demetriov was aware the man was bleeding. There had obviously been a fight in the tavern and this man had escaped a little worse for wear from the encounter and the drink. He started to stagger towards them. Avéa put a hand onto his shoulder.

“Stay still and wait here. Whatever you do, stay silent.”

So, he was to be their choice of meal tonight. The thought triggered revulsion, but the hunger seemed to rise like a wave inside of him. With the hunger came guilt. He didn't want to take this man's life, but it seemed that his body now required it. It became a matter of survival. He watched with anxiety knotting his insides as the man staggered down the alley towards them. Demetriov had to suppress a gasp as the man tripped and fell to his knees.

Avéa pounced on him before he could rise to his feet again, a hand clamped over his mouth as she dragged him upright. His eyes rolled in his head, almost unconscious. Avéa approached Demetriov slowly, Demetriov stepping out from his hiding place.

“Now Demetriov.” Avéa whispered.

Demetriov stood overwhelmed by indecision. His body wanted this man's blood with a craving he had never known. But his mind and heart said no. He did not want to cause more death and more suffering. The conflict seemed to have no resolution. His need and his moral fibre causing him torment. Avéa was not blind and knew he needed encouragement.

“Come Demetriov. He won't feel a thing. You need this. You need to survive!”

As he watched she slowly drew the unconscious man's head back, exposing the flesh of his throat. Demetriov could see the blood pulsing in the artery, the sight sending the hunger that raged inside of him spiralling out of control. He gave in and walked to Avéa's side. He looked nervously at her.

“Go on.” She whispered sensuously.

He placed a hand behind his victim's neck and closed his eyes, bending forward. He felt his lips connect to the victim's flesh, deliciously warm and inviting. He found himself wondering how it should be done, but as soon as the thought entered his head an instinct took over. He bared his vampire fangs and bit down hard. A whimper of pain escaped his victim as hot blood flowed into his mouth, making him gasp in surprise.

At that moment he felt relief as the demanding need subsided, but that was replaced by pleasure. The pleasure that came with a good meal, the feeling of a full stomach. The pleasure of warmth filling him as the blood slid easily down his throat and into his stomach. As he drank the warmth suffused into all of his body and with it came a new pleasure. It was pleasure that felt sexual in nature, the pleasure that can be felt during arousal. Delicious with the promise of more to come.

In his ears he could hear a roaring, the sound of his heart pounding. Faintly, as if from a way off, he could hear another heart beat. The sound of his victim's heart. As he drank that second heartbeat slowed. Demetriov listened to his victim dying. No longer did that knowledge revolt him, now exhilarating him. He felt such power, power over life and death. He could cheat death now. Cheat death night after night if he chose to.

Demetriov pulled back from his victim panting, sucking down air as if he had been drowning. His eyes closed overwhelmed by the experience. He found that he had taken him from Avéa's grasp, and the limp figure in his arms was well and truly dead. He felt drunk, the feast he had consumed overwhelming him, the alcohol in the man's blood intoxicating. Still, his thinking was clear. He looked Avéa in the eye as she smiled at him in triumph. The look on her face awakened the old revulsion and he dropped the body in horror at what he had done. He was overwhelmed by guilt. He had taken a life to prolong his own. And what was more he had enjoyed it.

He held his head in his hands, disgusted at himself. Avéa laughed at him. She found his plight comical. And with that she sowed the seed of self-loathing deep into Demetriov's soul. He followed meek as a lamb as she hunted for herself. Stood by quietly as she killed, stunned into a deep shock. Of that night he remembered nothing more except for the deep feeling of horror. He felt unclean. Indeed it seemed that nothing would wash away the stains left on his soul.

Author's notes:

Okay then, Anyone guess where this is going? I am having some trouble with chapter 3 not showing up on the site so sorry. I hope this one doesn't have the same issues. One can but hope. Anyways, Please R&R. Looking forward to my first review!