by Angela Allen
“Thank you.”
“I’ll be up front.” She turns and leaves him.
While Marcus is in the shower, Selena prepares herself. She disrobes and puts on one of the smocks. She grimaces as the rough overwashed fabric brushes against her skin. Not her choice, but she won’t have it on for long. She assembles the oils and lotions on the table along with several towels. She checks the linen closet for extra sheets. She may need something to bind him in if things don’t go well. Ideally she would like to spare Marcus as long as the passion and the bloodlust don’t overtake her.
“I’m done.”
Slowly Selena turns. She smiles as Marcus stands before her. She extends her hand toward the massage table. “Lie down. Relax.”
Marcus walks over and starts to climb up on the table.
“You won’t need the robe.” She walks up to him, loosens the belt and hands him a towel. She opens his robe fully, letting it fall to the floor. Her eyes rake over his body, igniting a fire inside his loins. He moans as his erection rises. She inhales his clean human scent and the blood rushes hotly to her head. Her fingertips begin to tingle.
“Lie down,” she says in a thickened voice.
As if he has no will of his own, Marcus does as instructed, lying facedown on the table.
Selena momentarily closes her eyes as the heat slowly builds within her. Her eyes spark yellow, then red as she extends her hands toward his bare back. When her fingers connect with his cool flesh, she shudders with excitement. The electricity courses through her. Yes, she is pleased.
Pulling herself together she pours oil into her palms and rubs them together, then begins a slow, sensual caress. She presses her fingertips into the hard lines of his back, along the slope of his spine. Her head begins to swim. Her clit swells and throbs. She opens her smock as the temperature in the room quickly rises. The smock falls to the floor. She presses her naked body closer to his.
He turns his head to look at her. His eyes widen.
Selena slips her hands beneath him and easily turns him onto his back. She looks down into his eyes while her hands massage his chest. She watches his erection rise toward her and she smiles. Yes, he will do just fine.
“You have a beautiful body,” she says in a hoarse whisper. She inhales his scent and her breasts brush against him.
Before Marcus can react, Selena has taken him inside her. “Don’t speak,” she warns, moving in a circular rhythm. “Don’t touch.”
Marcus grips the sides of the table as something unearthly passes through him. The room becomes dark, as black as a starless night. He is transported. His body is no longer his. He wants to cry out, but is afraid—afraid of what may happen if he does and afraid that the incredible sensations will stop.
Selena is in her own world, relishing the joy that he is giving her body. She wants more, needs more and drains him over and again until he is hanging on to consciousness. Her body is screaming—on fire. His fluids can’t put it out. He has no more to give. Selena whimpers. She looks at Marcus. His eyes are glazed. His breath is shallow.
“Look at me,” she commands.
With great effort Marcus tries to focus on the face above him. “Help me,” he whispers.
“Yes, I will put an end to it all.”
Her fangs flash an instant before she sinks them into his neck. His body spasms with an erection that feels like steel covered in velvet.
Release overtakes Selena, sweeping through her in endless waves. Her body finally cools as the last of Marcus’s life force flows from him to her.
This was not how the evening was supposed to end. Sated, Selena bathes herself and then wraps Marcus’s lifeless body in several sheets. She should have been able to have several days with Marcus before she reached this point. Her needs have grown to unmanageable proportions. And she is only totally satisfied after a kill.
She must find the one who can quench her appetite. Her time is running out, she realizes in something very much like mortal fear.
Selena remained at the resort for a month, searching fruitlessly. Each night she kills five or six men and sometimes even women. She’d lost count of the bodies she’d disposed of in the sandy dunes behind the hotel. Rumors were beginning to buzz about all the hotel guests who were disappearing without a trace. The police had even been called in to investigate. They were pressing to interview the hotel staff, certain the murderer must be among their ranks. Selena knew it was time for her to leave. She must find a new hunting ground.
For the next six months she roams the continent of Europe, then Africa and even the Orient. Her bloodlust is frenzied—totally beyond her control. She has become what she abhors most—a monster.
One morning while sitting in her hotel room in Hong Kong, she opens the paper to read a chilling article about a massive burial ground that has been uncovered near the banks of the river. According to the coroner’s report, the bodies had all been drained of blood and each one exhibited bite marks like those from a wild animal.
Using DNA testing to identify and trace the bodies, police had interviewed friends of several of the victims who described them as having been last seen in the company of a beautiful woman. A hefty reward was being posted for the capture of this unknown woman or any information leading to her whereabouts. A rough sketch was included at the bottom of the article—an eerily accurate picture of Selena.
Angrily Selena snapped the paper shut. The hunger had won again, making her become sloppy in her search. It had once more cost her a perfect hunting ground. Now she would be forced to flee or risk her life. There was a disturbing pattern to her life of late. After only a few months in each new place, inevitably newspaper stories would emerge about a mysterious woman and the trail of dead bodies left in her wake. Despite crisscrossing the globe, she was rapidly running out of places to feed.
As a last resort, she could seek refuge with her own kind, deep in the bowels of the cities. But she was not like them. She wasn’t!
Selena rested her head on her arms and wept. She was so lonely.
By the time Selena returns to the States, snow and ice cover the black-tarred streets and concrete walks of New York. Her garden is covered in a blanket of white. A chill penetrates her desolate brownstone, the exotic furniture covered in dust cloths. Selena moves from room to room, throwing open the windows, letting in the chilling air, hoping to cool down her already feverish body.
She hugs her arms around her slender frame and stares out at the magnificent skyline. Somewhere out there is her destiny, she muses. Somewhere out there is her dark prince, the one who will forever quell the fire that smolders within her. But where? She’s traveled the globe, haunted the alleys, nightclubs and corporate environs of the world. And each day her plight grows more desperate. The touch—her last link to any semblance of a normal life among humans—is weakening. The simple feel of flesh no longer satisfies her cravings. And with each rise and fall of the sun it is becoming more deadly for her to venture out into the daylight. Just lately she’s begun to feel the sun’s fierce rays sear her soft skin, penetrating even the heavy winter coats she’s donned. She is forced to wear dark glasses during the day, even while in the confines of her home, and has steadily grown more and more weary during the daylight hours, sleeping like one drugged. The only saving grace is the shortness of the winter days. But spring is only weeks away. Will she become a prisoner in her own home? Afraid to venture out for fear of being scorched by the sun?
What is the joy of immortality if one cannot enjoy the simple pleasure of walking among the living, inhaling the scent of life?
A flicker of resolve moves through her. Tonight, for the first time in months, she will reopen her salon. Perhaps tonight she will be lucky and not have to kill. Perhaps tonight she will find salvation.
Selena continues her vigil by the open window as a light snow begins to fall. The tiny flakes remind her of miniature diamonds twinkling against the waning light. In her weakened state, she must wait for full night to fall before it
is safe for her to go out.
Movement from across the street catches her attention. A van has pulled up and two men jump out and begin to unload. Behind the van a sleek, dark Mercedes-Benz parks and a tall, slender man dressed completely in black steps from the car, his movements lithe and quick despite his muscular build. Selena momentarily believes the figure is an apparition. She looks closely as he directs the moving men. He turns and looks up, as if sensing her presence gazing down on him. A wide-brimmed, black hat shields most of his face, but she is sure she sees him smile, his teeth a brilliant white against ink-black skin.
Her breath races and she presses her hands against the icy glass of the window, willing him to come to her. In a blink he has disappeared.
Selena shakes her head and swallows rapidly. Had she only imagined him? No, it could not be. The car is still there and the workers continue to unload the large van and haul furniture up the steps. In each of the windows of the house across the street, lights illuminate the once empty space, room by room coming to life.
Selena inexplicably feels weak. Grasping furniture, she stumbles across the room and collapses onto the wide, curtained bed. She falls into a deep, dark, dreamless sleep.
When she awakens, the room is shrouded in total darkness. The heavy brocade curtains flap furiously in and out of the open window. Her night vision heightens as she focuses on her surroundings. She rubs her forehead. What has happened? Did she pass out? Then she remembers.
The man! She jumps up from the bed and runs to the window. Dim lights flicker from the windows across the street. She sees movement, nothing more than a shadow moving swiftly from room to room, sometimes appearing to be in two places at once. The van is gone.
As if beckoned, the shadow stills, framed in the window across the street. He is watching her; she can feel his gaze. Suddenly she knows.
A knock on the door makes a catlike smile cross Lucien’s face. He strides to the door. “Selena,” he greets her, throwing open the portal.
Selena’s eyes lock onto his. Her breath catches in her chest.
“I’ve prepared some refreshment.” He bows gallantly and ushers her in with a wide sweep of his hand.
Selena steps inside and in a breath he is next to her.
“My manners are so rusty. It has been centuries since I had a guest. I am Lucien, welcome to my home, let me take your coat.” He steps behind her and slips her coat from her shoulders, his warm breath blowing across her neck and sending a shiver down her spine.
“How do you know my name?”
“You already have the answer to that, but you have yet to admit it. But please sit before we begin with the questions,” he says in an intriguingly accented voice that is tantalizingly familiar.
Selena does as instructed while Lucien brings a tray of drinks. She takes a glass of red wine and sips.
“Why have you waited so long…so long since that night in my bedroom?” Selena asks, recognition swirling through her as the haunting images of their illicit nights take shape in her mind.
The corner of his mouth lifts. “I could not come before now, my sweet Selena. I wanted to, but you must believe me—I could not. You needed to grow, to understand and master your powers.”
Her heart pounds. “I’ve been so lonely. So desperate and now, now I am becoming…” Tears fill her eyes.
“Sssh, sssh, there is no need for tears. That is why I have come. I could not bear to see you suffer anymore. It is time.” In a blink he is sitting next to her, caressing her cheek with one thumb.
She rests her head against his chest, inhaling the unique scent of him that she’s missed for so long. “Lucien…” She whispers his name, letting her tongue feel each syllable. “I never knew your name.” And then she realizes she still has not seen his face.
She sits up and leans away to look at him. With each blink of her eyes, his face and form change, spanning the centuries, taking on the personas of those famous and not so famous from the ordinary to the extraordinary.
“I am everyone and no one,” he says in a rich octave. His voice vibrates through her.
She reaches up to touch him. “Lucien.”
“I am not the one you truly seek, Selena. He is out there. I have seen him. That is why I have come to help you find him.”
“No!” She jumps up and appears on the other side of the room. “It is you! You I have waited for and searched the globe for all these years.”
He is now in front of her. “That is why you have not been able to find him. You believed it was me you sought.”
“It was,” she cries.
“No, my sweet Selena, it was not. Once you find him, you will find peace, and the loneliness that you have endured all these centuries will come to an end. Believe me.”
“There can be no one else.” In her rage she flies to the ceiling and bares her teeth.
“He will be a human. He will be your greatest challenge. He will still the fire within you.”
In a surreal flash he swoops her from the rafters and plants her on the floor. As the room recedes, they spin in a macabre dance, entwined, drawing from each other the bloodlust that fuels them.
“One last time,” he groans.
Selena feels her body filled with his and teeth tenderly nip at her flesh. She cannot believe that there could be any other for her in this lifetime or in any other.
When Selena opens her eyes she is back in her room, on her bed. She grabs her neck and brings away blood on her fingertips. Frantically she looks around the room. She is alone. She runs to the window. The house across the street is dark. The Mercedes is gone.
“Nooo!”
Like one possessed, Selena combs the streets of the city hunting for Lucien night after night. At times she feels him close enough to touch, only to turn and find herself alone once again. She hears his voice. His scent fills her nostrils. Surely she is going mad.
Finally, after weeks of torment, she makes her way back to the small salon tucked away from prying eyes. Her secret haven. She does not want to believe what Lucien said about there being someone, someone human, but if she is ever to have peace, she must know.
She sets the small lamp in the window to let all who dare to cross the threshold know that she is back and open for business.
By rote she prepares herself and the room. All of her regular clients are buried in her garden. She has been so obsessed in her search that she has not recruited any new clientele. But she will wait. Perhaps some unlucky man or woman will wander by.
Hours pass and just as she is about to give up, the doorbell rings.
She opens the door.
“Hi, I, uh…hope this is the right place.” He looks down at a small black-and-white business card, then at Selena. “Is this The Touch?”
“Yes,” she says without her usual animation, oddly taken by this stranger’s open face. She doesn’t recall giving out any cards. “Please, come in.” She steps aside as he walks past her. His scent goes to her head. She feels momentarily weak.
“Can I offer you some wine?”
“I’d like that.” He takes off his jacket and walks around the intimate sitting room. “I see you travel a great deal,” he says admiringly, examining the many photographs taken from different parts of the globe, festivals in Bahia, feasts in the mountains of Haiti.
“My work requires that I move around often,” Selena says with a sad smile.
He turns toward her. “A traveling masseuse. How interesting.”
She hands him a glass of wine. “It can be. What do you do?” She sits on the couch.
He sits beside her, but not too close, she notices.
“I’m a photographer. And I’m very impressed with your photography skills.”
“That’s the least of my talents.”
He tosses his head back in laughter. “I can only imagine. So tell me, how did you get started?”
“At what?”
“This job.” He glances around. “You don’t have a staff. Don’t you worry, bein
g a woman alone in this neighborhood?”
“Not at all. I can take care of myself.”
He looks at her for a long moment as if committing her features to memory. “So tell me then, how did you get started?”
Selena inhales deeply, then tucks her long legs beneath her on the sofa. Slowly she begins to tell him the fabricated story of her life, the lies of where she went to school, tales about her parents, funny anecdotes of close friends and family. All the things she’d lost long ago.
They talk for hours, sharing stories, laughter and wine. Before long the sky begins to turn a rosy pink, heralding the coming dawn. Panic fills Selena. She jumps up from the couch.
“I must close up now.” Her voice is desperate.
He looks at her, alarmed by her sudden change in demeanor. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, but you need to go. Now!”
“I…”
“Please.” She touches his arm and a current more potent than any she’s ever felt shoots up her arm, streaking through her body with the force of lightning. Her eyes roll to the back of her head and she loses consciousness.
He is stunned but catches her falling figure an instant before she hits the floor.
He lifts her and carries her to the nearby couch.
“Close the curtains,” she says, coming to as he lays her down. “Hurry.”
He does as she asks and quickly returns to her side. “Let me get you some water.”
“No…wine…red.”
He looks at her oddly, but gets a glass of wine. He holds up her head as she sips greedily.
“Easy.”
She looks into his eyes and sees a tenderness there that oddly stirs her heart. “Thank you.”
“Migraine?”
“What?”
“Do you have a migraine? I heard they can suddenly make you feel weak and sensitive to light.”
“Yes, yes,” she says, happy to grab an answer.
“Well, just rest. I can stay with you if you like. Or is there someone you want to call? Husband, boyfriend?”
“No, there’s no one. I’ll be fine. I just need to rest for a while.”