Unlike all my other Friday flashes, this is not a drabble. This is also my very first piece in the present tense. I am happy, because past efforts in the present tense were epic fails. I was inspired when I wrote this. In particular, I was inspired by Your Love is my Drug by Ke$sh (the video is at the bottom).
You did this to me. You, with your sweet blood and gelled black hair. Such addictive blood.
I search the streets. The neon clubs, with their bright music and beautiful dancers. The shadowed alleyways, filled with quiet moans and pretty asses.
The air is hazy. Smoke tickles my nostrils and the cravings rise. A man, bulky and strong, pulls me into a dance. I let him lead me into the ally, and stumble behind him, like a strung out kite. He grunts and collapses against the stained concrete wall. I drink deep of him, but he tastes nothing like you. Too much salt, not enough copper.
A girl at the next smoke den tells me of you. She says you were there. Danced with all the girls and half the boys. You always do. I have a hard time concentrating. Her liqueur breath is too much. This girl, with her smoky blue eyes and bottle red hair, she is what you like. She resembles me, except her cravings are different. I can tell. Her arms are pockmarked and when I suckle between her thighs, she gasps in pleasure. Her blood and nectar mingle in my mouth like the finest cognac.
I taste you on her. In her kisses, in the marks on her body. Your blood and seed are mind-shatteringly unique, love.
The girl nests in a concrete box lined with scraps and plush blankets. Pink ribbons decorate the window boards.
And you, my love, you lounge on the mattress like a young stallion. So beautiful.
You smile, welcoming me, and tell the girl to go. I don’t care.
You don’t resist when I drape myself atop you. My fingers stroke your muscles, your smooth skin. I luxuriate in your strength under me and plunge my fangs into your throat. Your blood is sweet. My fingers stop shaking and the jittering in my belly eases. So addictive, the taste of your blood. The perfect blend of caramel and copper.
I meet your eyes, and to my shock, your eyes glow red. Your fangs come out. I rear up, but a blinding pain between my shoulders makes moving impossible.
“Hi, baby,” you say.
You flip me over and sit hard on my belly. Behind you is the girl, pointing a gun at me. She shoots and pain rips through my chest. Two shots, I realize. She’s shot me twice.
Blood pours from my back. I cannot move and my sight blurs into a rainbow of colors.
I feel cold metal against my temple. My vision clears just enough to see you holding a gun.
I gaze into your joyful eyes and realize you’ll do it. It’s what dhampires do. Addict and kill vampires.