The Vampire Kiss Chapter Three: Virgin Blood

The Vampire’s Kiss
Chapter 3: Virgin Blood
by mypenname3000
Copyright 2015

Abigail turned the sedan into the parking garage beneath Faust Tower in downtown Chicago. The sun’s rays lightened the horizon. Fear rippled across her skin. The sun meant death. Its light was fire reduced to its most pure essence.

And purity was deadly to a vampire.

But Abigail didn’t fear for her own safety. Dawn lay a few minutes away and already she had pulled the car into the sanctuary of the parking garage. The dark, man-made cavern was lit by the impure, flickering florescent lights.

Abigail feared for her husband’s safety.

It was a small kernel buried in the depths of her soul, that tiny bit of her not bound up by the chains of her Sire’s will. I left my husband tied up to face the rising sun.

“Is there any particular place for me to park, Sire?” Abigail asked, addressing the vampire that killed her and who now rode in the back of the sedan.

“It is marked president of the board,” her Sire answered, his voice deep, powerful. His eyes flicked up to the rear-view mirror, meeting hers. He sat in the back, dressed in an expensive, Italian suit tailored to fit his strong figure.

A heat flushed through Abigail’s body at the memory of her Sire’s teeth piercing her neck as his cock pierced her pussy. She was his. Her body given over to servicing his lusts. Her Sire had taken her for hours while Damien watched while chained to their bedroom wall.

He ravished me in our marital bed.

Damien’s angry, bitter shouts echoed through her head. That part of Abigail free of her Sire’s control grieved for the hurt she inflicted on her husband. But she knew she would do it again and again. Her body yearned for her Sire’s touch.

Damien will be dead in a few minutes.

Her Sire was punishing Abigail and Damien for killing vampires. Before she was turned, Abigail had been a Knight Venator with her husband, a servant of the Jesuit Order who hunted monsters. Abigail and Damien specialized in slaying the undead.

They had killed many vampires, including ones sired by the man sitting behind her.

Abigail found the parking space next to the elevators. She pulled in and turned off the car. As a hunter, she would have been disturbed to learn that the President of the powerful Faust, Inc was a vampire.

Now she was thankful to serve such a powerful Sire.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The horizon grew brighter. Damien hung disconsolately, no longer caring that his arms were numb from his hours of imprisonment.

He had one chance to save his unlife and he had blown it. Abigail had left the keys to his manacles on the nearby nightstand. Before she left, a small part of her had rebelled against her Sire. Abigail knew he had telekinesis—his vampiric gift.

All Damien had to do was manipulate the key into the lock. But he had no skill with telekinesis yet. No finesse. His fear, frustration, and hunger for blood distracted him. In a burst of anger, he had accidentally flung the key out the window.

The sunlight grew brighter. His skin grew warm. The edges of purity touched him. He grit his teeth as his skin blackened and cracked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aurora the angel growled in frustration as the key to Damien’s freedom smashed through the window. “No. We were so close.”

Gideon sighed. “It’s probably better this way. The sun will cleanse Damien’s soul and give him rest.”

“And Faust will continue to expand his power.”

Aurora flared her wings. The Ether was so thin. It was the medium separating the mortal world from beyond. All she had to do was step through the barrier and manifest. She could close the curtains and save Damien. The plan would be salvageable.

But she hadn’t been given permission to perform any more interventions. Heaven no longer considered the risks worth allowing her to try. And she was no a demon. She wouldn’t act without orders.

But she wanted to.

“Gideon. I could crossover. I could save him. Do they know upstairs?”

Gideon glanced at his clipboard. “No intervention is possible. It is not worth the cost of allowing another demonic encroachment.”

Anger flared through Aurora. She seized the Ether’s fabric. She just had to tear and she would be through. She would save Damien and he could go kill Faust. Damien would be another monster, but one more easily manageable than the monster that was Faust.

“Aurora?” Gideon gasped, placing a hand on her shoulder. “What are you doing? Rebelling?”

A shock went through Aurora. She let go of the fabric and stared at her hands. I had been so close to…rebelling. To being no different than Jezebel and her ilk.

Aurora looked at Damien. She touched his face as the room grew brighter. “I’m sorry for failing you and your wife.”

“Aurora,” Gideon frowned, his tone shocked, “there may have been a possibility overlooked in my calculations.”

Aurora looked up. “What?”

“It’s not good.” Gideon’s eyes were sad as he held up his notepad. It wasn’t a real notepad, but a representation of the ever-changing probability of future events. Angels had talents—Aurora intervened; Gideon calculated.

Aurora studied the data and groaned, squeezing her eyes shut. Would my intervention really cause something worse than this?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Britney Lawson yawned as she opened the door to let out the family dog. Bruiser did a lap around the yard as he looked for a spot to make his business. The eighteen year old rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she watched the family dog. She didn’t like being up before the sun had even peaked over the horizon.

“Hurry up,” she muttered. “I want to get back to—”

Glass shattered.

Britney yelped as shards of glass rained down on her backyard. She glanced up at the D’Angelo’s house. Damien and Abigail’s bedroom window had a large, jagged hole in the center. Britney stepped onto the grass in her slippers, her eyes wide.

“What was that?” she muttered, her heart thudding.

She liked the D’Angelos. They had been her neighbors since she was a little girl. Abigail was playful and always had great, if earthy, advice about boys, and Damien was a hunk. Her first crush. When Britney turned eighteen a few months ago, she seriously considered seducing the sexy man.

But she didn’t want to hurt Abigail, and she knew that Damien loved his wife too much to cheat on her. No matter how big my tits are our how young and nubile my body is.

“Is that a key?” she asked herself, noticing the brass lying in the grass. She picked it up and frowned, glancing back at the window.

What happened up there?

Britney swallowed. She wanted to run back into the house and wake up her parents. I’m an adult. I can handle this. I’ll just go over there and find out what’s wrong.

Britney clutched the key in her hand, her heavy breasts jiggling beneath the long, Chicago Bears jersey she slept in. She padded around the house to the gate and slipped into the front yard. She took long steps and rounded the bushes separating her parent’s front yard from the D’Angelo’s.

The D’angelo’s garage door was open.

Britney’s stomach twisted as she cut across the grass. They never left their garage open. Her slippers whisked across the pebbly driveway. She almost slipped on the smooth cement floor of the garage. The door leading into the house was also open.

This is so dumb.

Britney pressed forward, stepping into the house. “Hello?” she asked.

“Britney?” the pained voice of Mr. D’Angelo called.

“Yes,” she shouted. “Where are you?”

“Bedroom.” His voice was hoarse. “Hurry.”

Britney sprang into action, her slippers slapping on the hardwood floors. She reached the stairs and ran up them. Her nose wrinkled. Something burned, like charred meat. Her heart hammered in her chest.

Mr. D’Angelo screamed in pain.

“What’s happening?” she shouted as she raced faster, passing the second floor and heading up to the third were the D’Angelo’s bedroom was.

“Curtains!” howled Mr. D’Angelo. “Close them! Hurry.”

Britney burst onto the top floor and raced into their bedroom. Her eyes widened in shock. Mr. D’Angelo hung naked from the wall by manacles. His body thrashed. His face was blacked and burned by the first rays of golden light peaking through the room.

“Please!” he screamed. “Curtains, Britney!”

Britney yelped and charged for the curtains. Confusion gripped her mind. She couldn’t think, only act. She reached the heavy curtains and yanked them shut. Mr. D’Angelo’s screams died down. His body stopped thrashing.

“Mr. D’Angelo,” she gasped. “Oh, my god, what happened? Where is Abigail?”

“Need to…” he muttered, his face a charred mask. “Help…me…”

Britney opened her hand, staring at the key. Then she glanced up at the manacles. “I’ll get you down, then I’ll call for help. Just hold on, Mr. D’Angelo.”

Britney raced around the bed to the nearby nightstand, stepping over a notepad and the nightstand desk drawer strewn across the floor. She grasped the nightstand and jerked it back, knocking off the lamp in her haste.

She didn’t care.

“Just hold on,” she kept repeating.

“Need you…” Mr. D’Angelo muttered. “So warm…hear you…heart…warm…”

His words didn’t mean anything to Britney. She dragged the nightstand close enough to where he hung and mounted the piece of furniture. The nightstand’s uneven legs rocked beneath her and she yelped, grasping Mr. D’Angelo’s body to keep from falling.

“Sorry,” she gasped as he groaned.

His arms were as burnt as his face, his fingers charred almost to the bone.

“Don’t look,” she muttered to herself, fighting the roiling in her stomach. “Just open the lock.”
Her sweaty hand fumbled with the key. She inserted it into the lock and twisted. Metal clicked and Damien’s left hand dropped free. He grunted, held up only by the charred remains of his right arm. She reached over him.

“Just hold on,” she repeated as she forced the key into the lock.

Britney twisted.

Mr. D’Angelo dropped to the floor in a heap, moaning in agony. Britney hopped off and bent over him. Before she could react, he sprang at her. His hand slammed into her throat. She tried to scream, but he choked off her air. The world flew past and then she slammed into the bed, Mr. D’Angelo on top of her.

Fear hammered in her heart. She kicked and struggled.

And then his mouth bit into her neck. A shudder ran through her body. Euphoria filled her. The virgin gasped. Her pussy became molten fire as Mr. D’Angelo drank down her blood. Every beat of her heart pumped more and more into his mouth.

His hand let go of her throat. She didn’t fight any longer.

“Yes,” the virgin moaned, her eyes fluttering.

His mouth sucked. The blood flowed into his lips. He growled his enjoyment. Britney’s eyes widened. Vampire… drifted through her mind. She humped beneath him, her thighs spreading wide, rubbing her pussy against his stomach through her jersey. The world grew fuzzy and dark.

Her pleasure increased.

It seemed like an eternity that Mr. D’Angelo sucked at her neck. His teeth bit deep. It was so intimate. She was giving him her life. That made her happy. She turned her head, staring at his short, dark-brown hair. His skin healed, the charred fading.

I’m saving him. Her hand stroked his powerful arm. It was so hard to move. She grew weaker and weaker as the pleasure swelled inside of her.