Page 5 of You Only Die Twice

Her mouth drops open at my words, and she hesitates, rooted to the spot. Did she not hear me? Does she not care to obey me? She was so submissive, so willing on the ship. What about now when I am losing every fuck I ever had to give. Stepping forward, I fill her space, dwarfing her.

Powerful.

The word flows through my body, filling me, invigorating me. As Katrina’s Dominant, she still has the ability to say no. But, as her vampire master, there’s nothing she can do to stop me from taking whatever the hell I want. That knowledge clicks about in my brain, rolling around like a marble searching for a divot to fall into.

Until now, I’ve always been by the book. I was that way in my work and life. Consent was something I breathed and lived by, but now that I’m staring at Katrina’s quivering form, I realize I don’t actually have to care. Finally, the marble falls into place as understanding fills my core.

What I lived by were human rules of civility. They were a mask - a shield for others. A stopgap so that I never hurt them. It was a veneer. If I were brutally honest with myself, I never really gave a damn about the rules; I gave a damn about what others thought.

It was the reward, the accolades. Everyone said I was such a good Dom…but why? It was because I followed the rules. I didn’t hit harder than the rest. I didn’t scene any better than other seasoned Doms. It was because I wasn’t a predator. I wasn’t the monster they all feared would fill their ranks.

But I was. I am that monster. I hid it from everyone, even me. But now, my monster is set free. It can roam about and stretch its legs. It’s a dangerous thought, one I keep trying to shove back into the dark recesses it came from, but now that I understand my true nature, it no longer wants to go back into that neat and tidy little box.

It wants out, and it wants blood - her blood.

Her eyes widen as I stalk forward even more, my cold skin brushing against her hot body. God, how I want to just wear her. She’s so warm, so…alive. My cock pulses with need as I bully her, pushing into her space, forcing her to obey me. The scent of her fear blossoms as I edge her closer to the wall.

Instead of repulsing me like it had, I note the nuances and flavors as it fills the air. I’m not a sommelier by any means, but I can pick out her individual profiles that comprise her fear. It’s not all acrid. Sure, there’s that note of ash and smoke as it wafts through the air, but it’s so much more complex than that.

It’s the scent of s’mores and less of a barbecue. I know it’s putting it into human terms, but dammit, that’s all I have to go on. I don’t have the language of monsters right now. All I know is that her fear is sweet. It’s sugar, just on the edge of burning. It’s marshmallows melting deep into the night by a campfire that warms the body and speaks of carnal delights under the stars. It’s childhood morphing into adulthood, of a boy becoming a man. It’s rebirth. That’s her scent. It’s sweet, sweet resurrection.

Her blood is my sacrament, my rite. Her body is my prayer, just waiting for me to feast upon it and be transformed. Luka has never put it in these words, but somehow, I know. I just know that she will be my salvation.

Falling to my knees, I shove her against the wall, burying my nose between her thighs, inhaling the sweet perfume that’s all her, all decadent. My fangs itch with need as her femoral artery pounds against the thin skin of her inner thighs. The blood will be rich there. I can almost taste it coating my tongue.

But I must resist.

I can’t feast upon her body yet. I must make her as wanting as I am. I want her desperation to fill the room, to choke anyone that dares defy our space. I want Luka to know that he may own our bodies, but I will still own Katrina’s soul. She may answer to both of us, but she will sing for me.

Luka doesn’t understand. He’s been a monster for far too long. I still have enough human in me to make her want me - to cry out for me, to beg for me. Luka just wants the gratification, whereas I want to burrow into her soul and wear it as a second skin.

Without bothering to ask for permission, I slide my fingers across her skin, spreading her thighs open, revealing her soaking slit. Groaning, I lap at her, my eyes rolling back into my skull as her taste explodes on my tongue. So much more poignant than when I had her as a human. Everything is so much more.

I grip her legs, feasting on what she’s unwillingly offering. Her small fingers bury themselves into my hair, her movements hesitant, as if she doesn’t know whether to push me away or pull me closer. Truth is, not even I know the answer to that.

The human part that’s used to asking permission recoils at the way I’m handling her, aggrieved that I’m forcing myself upon her, but the monster no longer cares. It dances in her scent, her taste, the texture of her skin as I slide my tongue along her lower lips, the wetness of her arousal coating my chin.

She’s the fire to my ice. The completion of me. I will never allow her to be taken away again. Even if it means submitting to Luka, she will be mine. I will own her, every inch, every sigh, every moan. It will all come from me. I will devour her, and she will thank me, existing only to see to my pleasure.

Our pleasure, the voice rumbles in my head.

Luka. Amid my new awakening, he drifted out of my mind like a wisp of smoke. He is just as aroused as I am. The need to feast upon her, someone, anyone beats at my brain, driving my need up even higher. I groan again and pull Katrina flush against me, pulling on her thighs until they’re wrapped around my waist.

With her safely in my arms, I carry her back over to the pitiful excuse of a cot they made her sleep on and lay her down. The sheets are filthy and wrinkled, sullied with the time she’s spent here. I can understand keeping her a prisoner, but this is too much. Red tinges my vision as I finally take in our surroundings. We’re in a dungeon fit for a mongrel, not the place I want to fuck my human in. She deserves better, nicer.

She will have all that and more as soon as you indulge. Stop holding onto the vestiges of humanity and take what is rightfully yours. You’re what’s holding her back. All of this. Everything I’ve done is because of you. The longer you hold out, the longer she will suffer.

Guilt slams into me, nearly overriding my need. With those few utterances, the part of my humanity that refuses to die flares to life. By taking her, by consuming what makes her human, I can give her a better life, but, in that, I will also lose more and more of my soul.

What is the use of a soul if you can’t use it as a bartering chip?

Why is he right? Why is he always right? Pulling away, I force myself from the heat of her body and stare into her eyes. They’re wide, the pupils eating her irises. Nothing in her notes the distress wafting from her. Her mind knows. Her mind sees the monster and wants to fight, but her body is beyond caring.

Looking up to the ceiling, I shoot up a prayer, any prayer, pathetic and needy. I have to know I’m doing the right thing. If losing my humanity means she can keep hers for a little longer, then it feels like a good trade. I’ve lost so much of myself over the years, and I have so little left.

What type of man would I be - what type of Dominant would I be - if I denied her what remains of my humanity in a desperate attempt to keep myself whole? Closing my eyes, I nuzzle her inner thigh, laying my ear over her artery for a few moments.

Her heartbeat is strong, vibrant. Surely there’s enough of her that will remain when I take my fill. I’m only helping her by doing this. Even rationalizing it in my head doesn’t fully help. Unwittingly, I find myself waiting for Luka’s voice, that raspy demon in my skull just waiting to tell me what to do.