It was a pitch-dark night, just like spilled ink with the smooth spot of the full moon shining on.
Silver light penetrated through the stained-glass window and dark wine-red velvet curtains. The flame of the fireplace was lighting over the rich furniture in the style of Louis XIV. In the glare and reflections of the thick candles everything seemed brownish red and mysterious.
Sprawled on the settee there was a man sitting over there wearing loose white shirt, which seemed too bright among those dark brown, black and red colors. He was strong, graceful and damn manly. His dark hair not yet touched by the white paint was shimmering.
She was sitting next to him on the bearskin rug on the floor and never looked away from him.
- Do you agree? - she asked quietly.
- No! And no again! – orange sparks flashed in his eyes.
She crawled over to him and put the hands on his knees.
- Nicholas... - she said like singing. – It's not as scary as it seems... It's not even scary at all. I will help you, and everything will be alright.
The brunet winced painfully.
- Why should I believe you?..
- You're too tired... - She was stroking his legs.
- But you’ve lost all your feelings...
- That’s not true. We feel everything like you do. I love you... I want you to be close, I want us to be always together.
- ...but you do not feel the time flowing by, - he said.
- We are eternal, - she said. - And we're not getting older. We do not suffer... no more pain! All the possible knowledge is accessible... It gives you great Power.
- Power? Why do I need it?..
- I want to make it better... Trust me, just believe... I will do the right thing... Like a snake she slithered over him, lulling him with her voice. - Don't worry, I'll be with you... I love you.
Nicholas looked into her sparkling eyes and felt his legs weakening, his arms hardly moving and the heart beating slower every minute as if going to stop. He realized he couldn’t resist at all.
She threw his head back and kissed him softly.
When her sharp teeth abruptly dug in his skin, at first he didn't even get what had happened to him. She ran her tongue over the ruby rivulets flowing down his throat and getting on the white collar. He was shaking hard.
- You... you... - he gasped, – Why... you...
He was hurt... very hurt – as if millions of red-hot needles simultaneously pierced every inch of the skin, every cell, and he was thrown either in heat, or in cold. The room was either like the hell oven, or covered with silvery frost.
He frantically tore his shirt.
- Be patient... be patient, honey... just let it go.
She ran her lips over the bitten spot on the neck and the wound instantly healed.
He touched her bare skin through the lacy stocking... His hand was tightened with a glove.
He felt every muscle, like a vessel getting filled with power...
Razor-sharp fangs dryly snapped. She dodged him, but he was stronger: he twisted her hands, leaning over her with his whole body. With his huge paws he spread her under. No tenderness...
She was kicking and she managed to free a hand and that hand rushed to his very sensitive part...
Sharply lifting her hips, he took her and with old good intimate and slow movements brought her to orgasm.
Then he was free...
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