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The pale moonlight glistened above the desert sands, a bright red comet slashed through the night sky like a bloody blade. Prophecies foretold of the comet heralding a new age. It had appeared this morning as they sailed into Qarth. The captain and his crew, already into their cups, all shared their culture’s version as they readied to make land.
A young man with dark almond eyes and copper skin stated the Dothraki believed it was a sign from the moon goddess that the stallion who mounts the world has been born to lead as their Khal, uniting their people as one khalasar as they started in the beginning of time. The Volantenes thought their champion had been reborn thanks to R’hllor’s grace to free all His children from bondage. A YiTish man believed it foretold of the Maiden-of-Light turning her back upon the world once more to allow the Lion of Night to come forth and rid the world of all its evil.
Jon certainly hoped the YiTish weren’t correct, or all those he loved would most likely perish in the cleansing. He remembered Old Nan telling him stories when he was a boy of such a comet. “Dragons,” she had whispered. “The dragons will return.”
A foreboding shiver wracked through his spine at the thought. Despite the darkness, his exceptional grey eyes could see the rust color that gave the Red Waste its name. Jon bent down to examine the dry earth, the tracks he followed disappearing piece by piece as the wind kicked up. Grains of fine dust swirled through the air and threatened to erase them.
His nose picked up on a plethora of scents wafting from the drafts of air that whipped around him. Robb must have as well, as his blue eyes glowed brightly in the night. Sniffing to discern which direction they should travel and how close they were to their goal, Jon dismissed the strong smell of horses.
Concentrating on compartmentalizing the distinct aromas, he placed a hand on his brother to quell the instinct he saw taking over while closing his eyes to block out other stimuli. It was a necessary skill in their species when all their senses were heightened and the impulse of nature overwhelmed. When they were young it was nigh impossible, but one they could improve upon with practice and experience, though some better than others as his brother was demonstrating.
It didn’t help that they hadn’t come across any sustenance in days. The Red Waste was vast and food and water were scarce. Which was why there wasn’t a single human they had encountered since they set off from Qarth. Besides the horde of horses, there were a large number of people, their odor calling to him and igniting his thirst and hunger.
Incisors lengthening, Jon’s mouth watered, the intense burning in his throat felt like he was a dragon about to breathe fire. He had no doubt his eyes were blue stars burning in the dark of midnight, just as his brother’s were.
“Control yourself, brother,” Jon whispered, softer than a gentle breeze knowing Robb would still hear without alerting anyone else of their presence. Immediately Robb relaxed under his grip. “Which way?”
Closing his eyes, Robb let his intuition guide him. As he tracked, Jon did the same, trying to sniff out the scent they needed to find. Vampire scents were enticing in a different way than the savory scents of humans.
Beneath the body odor and metallic blood that made him thirsty, he could just make out a unique mixture of jasmine, lemon, spices, and honey. He shifted uncomfortably as the scent lit his body aflame in an unexpected way. His cock throbbed at the delicious perfume of their target, wondering if it had the ethereal allure of the coven that made it.
His self-control was only outmatched by the one that made him and he wouldn’t allow himself to lose it. Shame and confusion filled him at his body’s betrayal. Thankfully Robb had opened his eyes, now only faintly containing the unnatural icy blue.
“Northwest. This way.” Robb pointed before standing and taking off in a blur.
Robb was stronger than him, but Jon was faster. Sprinting after him with such speed the human eye would be unable to follow, he would catch up to him soon. Jon’s grey eyes were blue reflecting pools now, but his hunger was for something other than sustenance.
They were from the North, their clan of vampires known for their bright blue eyes when they were hungry and feeding. Most of their family’s eyes remained a shade of blue. Jon’s and his sister, Arya’s, were grey, though all faded from the eerie and vibrant color that indicated their hunger for blood. They were the same shade as their mother’s, all turned together by their Uncle Ned when they were infected by the Spring Sickness.
His mother had been livid at first at what they had become, but she quickly accepted it was the only way to save her children. Jon was only ten and eight, Arya even younger at ten and six. It was the beginning of the Stark Vampire coven.
Ned was the oldest of them all, the father and patriarch, turned by Jon Arryn centuries before them. There were all kinds of rumors about the Lord of Winterfell who never aged. Even Old Nan who was over a century old told them tales passed down from her grandmother of the very same man.
During his newborn years, he left Winterfell to his siblings, leaving to learn his new way of life under the tutelage of Lord Arryn. He returned to find Lyanna and her children. For centuries they roamed Westeros every decade or so finding a new home so as to not raise suspicions when they didn’t age.
Robb was the first after them. A great-grandson of the Stark line who died on a battlefield against the rebelling Bolton’s, or so they had thought. Once the rebellion had been squashed, their young lord laid dying, Ned combed the battlefield for survivors.
When they came to Robb’s body, the human healers placed his body on a cart, declaring him past saving. Ned could hear the faint heartbeat as the men pulled the cart to the growing pile of bodies ready to burn come nightfall. Sneaking out of his tent, he stole Robb and turned him, saving him from being burned alive and giving him an immortal life at the age of twenty.
Over the years they added three more siblings and Ned found his mate. They had all posed as the Lord or Lady of Winterfell at some point, depending who stayed. “There must always be a Stark at Winterfell”, but when the years never end one becomes a bit restless and disagreements could lead to grudges that last a decade.
Jon had seen Westeros from the Wall to Dorne, though this was his first time crossing the Narrow Sea. He had been in the Lands of Always Winter when his mother had run away with a southern vampire. When he returned to Winterfell, she sent a letter saying she was in Dorne and not to worry.
Five years later she returned when news of the war reached her asking for her brother. Ned had already left for King’s Landing fighting to overthrow the southern originals. Her screams were enough to bring the Wall down when she felt her mate die.
“There,” Robb told him, stopping abruptly.
Following his line of sight, he squinted his eyes through the vast darkness. The scents were much stronger, but he could also make out fruits and fresh water, devil’s grass and small animals. Neighs and whinnies quietly brushed his ears behind the rushing winds, as well as snores and a cacophony of sounds of slumbering humans.
Only a few were still awake patrolling as they guarded the area, cared for a crying babe, or conversed with those that couldn’t find sleep.
“We should do some reconnaissance and wait to go in at the hour of the wolf,” Jon said. “The entrance is there, so we need to approach from the side so not to be seen by guards.”
Robb nodded and that was enough for them to continue on to the North before doubling back to the aging walls that fortified the old city. They kept their distance, knowing any vampires may sense them if they got any closer. Standing still as statues in their dark clothing, they crouched low to the ground, and used their heightened senses as they waited.
“If we finish this tonight we could go home,” Robb murmured so low he wouldn’t have heard him with a human’s ear.
“Aye,” Jon replied, though he doubted it would be that simple.
For the last few years they had followed the trail, and every time they were close, their target would evade them. The new king, Robert Baratheon, had given them the mission at the recommendation of their father and his hand. Aerys Targaryen, the previous king of the red-eyed southern vampires had created an abomination and angered all the covens and they rebelled.
The Mad King, he was called, had ruled for a thousand years. His ancestors used dragons for their power. Aerys wanted to return his family to their former glory, calling on the Red Priests and their magic.
Dragons had been extinct for hundreds of years, but the Red Priests succeeded when the original southern vampires were created, their red eyes containing the flames of the dragons they used to ride.
There were four of them, Aerys, his wife, and two sons. Jon’s mother had run away with Rhaegar, the oldest son, but he returned when he heard of his father’s latest insane plot. The Targaryens were said to be succubus and incubuses, beautiful and otherworldly.
Aerys’ new obsession with power was creating a human-vampire hybrid. No one took him seriously, for how could a vampire mate with a human successfully? It was absurd.
His first attempts failed, ending in the poor human’s death. But eventually he brought home a beautiful bouncing babe.
“What do you think it will look like?” Robb asked after a long stretch of silence, listening to the movement of those conscious within the city.
“You were there when father told us of the immortal children.”
“Will it be the same, you think?” Robb’s lips barely moved as he spoke with inhuman speed.
“Whatever it is, it’s an abomination. You know father was there when Aerys killed the immortal children and made the decree banning them.”
It was a story that would’ve given him nightmares if he still needed sleep. A woman they called the Night’s Queen had created a mate for herself. She had wanted children desperately, something that was impossible for vampires.
The Night’s King began turning children for her, creating their own family using Free Folk babes. Enough kids went missing that the Free Folk took notice. One night a few of the immortal children went on a rampage, wiping out the entire city of Hardhome in hours.
A toddler vampire having a tantrum could level cities and they couldn’t learn or understand the consequences. This was where the story of the Long Night and the Last Hero evolved from as the humans gathered their armies to attack the vampires and rid the world of them. Humans tell a valiant tale of a lone hero traveling to the Heart of Winter to learn the secret to defeating the Others from the Children of the Forest.
But the reality was much less interesting. The Kingsguard came and enacted their punishment, ripping apart and burning those responsible for exposing them until they were nothing but ash in the wind, including all the baby vampires. Immortal children couldn’t be trusted to remain hidden, so they were banned. Like all the laws amongst vampires, the punishment was death to any who broke it.
“Father said they were beautiful, to look at one was to love it. It was why vampires stood to defend the immortal children, giving their lives as well.”
“Afraid your paternal instincts will kick in and you’ll fall in love with it, Robb?” Jon smirked.
“Oh, fuck off. That’s not what I meant.”
Footsteps were faintly walking by the wall closest to them, a patrol walking the length of the city. Two guards walking at human speed, though it could be either. It was too far to differentiate by smell or to hear if a heart beat within their chests.
Robb spoke again. “I mean, if the beast he created was an immortal child, why hasn’t it exposed itself yet? Seems to me it would be time to give up since the law was to make sure vampires existence remains hidden. It can do that quite well it seems.”
Quite well, indeed. Some of Aerys’ Kingsguard and loyal supporters had escaped with the babe as they attacked the Red Keep. They had searched high and low, but the little monster was gone. Since then, Robert had sent his assassins after it, time and time again.
Ravens would send reports on their progress, always just missing the demon, until one day the letters would stop and no one ever heard from the assassins again. Ned had thought with their special abilities, they would have an edge, and he trusted them more than anyone else.
“Aye. The abomination seems adept at hiding, but you saw what the beast did in Qarth. Killing all the Undying Ones and leaving their tower in rubble.”
Qarth was the closest they had come to catching it. The House of the Undying was still a smoking ruin after the immortal child’s latest tantrum. Jon and Robb had spoken to Pyat Pree who lamented those he lost as he lay dying in the broken rubble, his brothers and sisters now the ash that floated around them.
If the demon could destroy such mature and powerful vampires, it was stronger than any other newborn. Only those with talents could beg entrance into the order of the Undying, and of those only the best were accepted.
“She is a monster,” Pyat Pree coughed, gasping out his final breaths. “We welcomed her and she repaid us with death and destruction. You must destroy her. Follow the comet, she travels north through the Red Waste.”
Jon turned to Robb. “We have our orders, we swore oaths to the King and our father entrusted us. We will not fail him.”
Seeing how old the Undying Ones were, he wondered if they had been the original northerners, not just with blue eyes but their skin and lips as well. No one knew for sure who created the northerners. Some believed it was a curse from the Old Gods themselves.
Old Nan had told him the original northerners had been Bran the Builder and his family, the founders of House Stark, which was why those with Stark blood always had special abilities like the Targaryens. There was a rumor Bran still lived in a cave buried deep in the Heart of Winter beneath a heart tree where he sat upon his weirwood throne of twisted roots.
Jon thought it was best not to know in this case. It was more likely a darker reason in his opinion, as any creature that needed to feed off the souls of others could only be. “Only death could pay for life” and each one of them had taken their fill of lives to pay for their immortality.
Several lifetimes of good deeds could never absolve them of their sins. Some days he dreamed of ways to terminate this monotonous existence. He was grateful to at least have a task at hand to occupy his days for now. Once they rid the world of the demon child, he would have to figure out what he would do.
“Can you feel where she is?” Jon asked as his eyes scanned the area, focusing on where their best point of entry may be.
Robb’s gift was tracking. When they swapped experiences, he explained it as having an instinct of the direction to go, and once they were closer he could pinpoint exactly where who or whatever he tracked was. If it was someone he knew then he could show you on a map which city they were in, even see in his mind’s eye the room they occupied and what it looked like.
Having never been in close proximity to the half-breed, he couldn’t do that yet but he would know the direction, like a moth drawn to the flame. Over the walls there was a structure in the distance, almost blending into the horizon with how far it still was. They stopped the moment it came into their excellent sight.
The white broken walls offered meek protection, but it gave them enough cover as they sat their planning. An abandoned city lay in the middle of the desert, now occupied by the beast and its entourage as they took respite from the harsh terrain. It must have once belonged to the Qaathi before they were nearly wiped out in wars, their descendents now known as the Qartheen.
“How many do you think?” Jon murmured, knowing his brother would still hear.
“Around thirty humans and twenty horses. Their hearts thump loudly with nothing else around for leagues.”
“Mmm. Who would let such a creature take refuge with them?”
Shrugging, he answered, “The Dothraki Sea borders the Red Waste. It would explain the horses. But they are a superstitious people. I can’t imagine them hiding a rare and dangerous creature. The horses alone should be spooked.”
“Should be, but they aren’t. Either the horses are used to the supernatural, or whatever Aerys made is adept at hiding what they are.”
“We have to look at every possibility. The half-breed didn’t evade the best hunters and trackers for years without someone experienced by their side to protect them. Mayhaps one with a strong gift. Compulsion or mind-control could do the trick.”
“Or they can glamour themselves in any disguise they need to blend in. Being descended from the Targaryen bloodline would make it a strong probability,” Robb replied.
In the desert, there was little solace. They were sitting targets for any passersby and whatever the creature was the longer they sat there. More pressing, they thought that at least a few of Aerys’ former Kingsguard were still acting on his orders to protect the thing.
“Can you tell who guards them?”
“I can count three so far, no, four. Fuck. That doesn’t bode well for us.” Robb shook his head, his auburn curls bouncing around his face.
“No one familiar though?” Jon asked, his eyes still not moving from the dilapidated town.
“I have never met the Kingsguard as you and father had. I only know two stand by the gates and two are closer to the immortal child. Most likely they are directly guarding it, but with all of them so close together and having never known them, it's difficult to know more. I believe it is your moment to shine, brother,” Robb smirked, clapping Jon on the back hard enough to want to punch him in that pretty face of his.
Jon’s answering scowl only amused his brother more. With a huff, he took off venturing closer to the abandoned city, Robb letting out a laugh as he sprung into motion. They had to be in before the sun rose. While they wouldn’t burn an agonizing death, they would be hard-pressed to hide in the vast open sands.
Humans also believed myths about them, like wooden stakes could kill them and garlic and crosses would repel them or incapacitate them. Ridiculous. The only way to harm a vampire was fire and weapons forged and imbued with fire, like Valyrian steel and dragonglass.
The protective walls of the city had long ago deteriorated, making the defenses shoddy. Crouching low as he could, he hid behind what wall remained, best he could. Robb would know when they were furthest from the immortal beings and give the signal.
They could easily take care of any humans who may see but they needed as much time as possible to face their target with even numbers of immortals before they were ganged up on. As Robb jumped up, Jon didn’t hesitate to mirror his movements, landing so lightly on their feet no humans would’ve heard them. But those like them would.
Jon knew it was time to use his abilities; reaching out to sense any distressing thoughts, he listened. There he found the two guards who had left their post near the gate, already chasing after them. It didn’t surprise him if their theory was true and they were the elite Kingsguard. They would’ve sensed them a league away.
Only four survived the attack on the originals. Jaime Lannister served the new King Robert, much to his uncle’s chagrin. Ned never trusted the man after his treachery.
Jaime had been the one to kill the Mad King, while his father and the Lannister coven aided Robert, Jon Arryn and their respective covens to dispose of the Kingsguard and royal family. If Jaime’s loyalty could be swayed so easily to kill his king, what was an oath to a new monarch?
Barristan Selmy had kneeled to Robert as well, and as a test to his loyalty he was sent after the abomination a few years ago. Jaime Lannister and a well known gifted warrior, Brienne of Tarth, were sent along with him. No word of their death, nor evidence they still lived had been found, before Jon and Robb were given the mantle to chase the demon.
Feeling the anxiety and alert of the guards in their thoughts, Jon used his power to override them, sending confusion and misunderstanding in its place and sending them the opposite direction. They were willful men, he could feel that much, but after sowing doubts he then conveyed it was a mistake, the need to return to their post, and serenity so they would believe all was well.
Jon knew a vampire with the power of compulsion, similar but more absolute than his own talent. It would certainly come in handy, but only if you could get close enough. He much preferred his gift, though it could be more difficult with stubborn arses and experienced vampires who had been around for longer than he had been born in either life.
“Be alert,” Jon whispered to his brother whose eyes glowed bright blue now that they were in the thick of so many humans.
With a nod, they moved through the shadows towards the enticing scent of what he assumed was the human-vampire hybrid. Jon tried not to think about the fact they were about to destroy a seventeen year old child. It was why he made sure to always think of it in terms of demon, beast, abomination.
Any hesitation and they could fail. The arresting aroma enveloped him now, calling him so strongly his mouth watered, his cock hard as steel. The originals who made the demon were incubuses or succubuses and it was obvious to him this creature was no exception, mayhaps the most powerful one to exist from his own reactions.
Revulsion and confusion mixed with heady arousal had his head swimming. This thing was controlling him in vile ways and it was young by human years. His eyes closed trying to find the mind of the demon but he came up empty. What the fuck was wrong with him? If his lungs still needed air he would be hyperventilating as panic buzzed through him.
“Jon.”
His head whipped towards Robb’s. “Ready?” He looked at him quizzically, eyes searching.
Willing himself to relax, Jon wished he could use his gift on himself. Two guards were stationed at the door of the crumbling stone building the devil spawn took residence in. He wondered if it slept like humans. Was it more like their kind?
They would find out soon enough. The guards' minds were alert and suspicious, so he used this against them. Picking up a stone from the ruins next to him, Jon tossed it with all his might, watching it fall on the opposite side of camp. It landed against more stone, the sound reverberating throughout the quiet dozing city.
In a blur only other vampires could see, he watched the guards run from the building towards the sound, as he used his gift to implant thoughts to coincide and encourage their thorough inspection. Even then, he knew they had little time before they would catch on. These weren’t newborns, easily fooled and weak-willed running solely on instinct.
Trailing after his brother through the doorway, he was stopped when he ran into something hard as a brick wall, Robb’s frozen form. Jon hissed at him as he was thrown back from the force, catching himself in a crouch just before he hit the wall. “Robb,” he snarled, more frustrated by his continued silence.
In less than a second he was by Robb’s side, ready to curse him, shake him, ask him what the fuck was wrong with him- until he saw his face. His eyes were brighter than the stars, the black veins pulsing from the corners of his eyes down his cheeks in his hunger. The eyes weren’t concerning, the veins only mildly so for a vampire who hadn’t fed in days this close to humans.
But Robb was old enough and had maintained control for over a century and if he were truly about to feed, then why was his mouth gaping in shock, even with his incisors lengthened? Tracing his gaze, Jon’s senses were suddenly overwhelmed. Where the beast should have been instead laid a beautiful young girl, not a child like he had expected.
She laid there sleeping, her silver strands of hair splayed across a pillow like a halo. Her bushy eyebrows were furrowed and her pillowy lips bowed as if her dreams were uneasy. Thick lashes brushed her rosy cheeks as her nostrils flared on her button nose with each breath she took. A light fur covered her curvy form, a woman’s body, despite her obvious small stature.
He had been told the immortal children were beautiful; to look upon them was to love them, but this wasn’t the reaction he was expecting to have. This was not what his uncle had described. Mayhaps they had been tricked and the immortal child was not here.
His cock throbbed achingly in his breeches as her scent of honey, jasmine, lemon, and spices and he was certain his face mirrored his brother's. An instant later the scene changed before him, a soft breeze and haze of movement. Jon was shocked when the bed was empty and he felt the cold metal of a knife pressed to his throat.
Bloody lot of good that would do her, but he would take the reprieve from looking upon her. Maybe he could gain some of his senses despite the deceptive lull of her smell and the warmth of her soft body against his back.
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice just as entrancing, somehow sweet and seductive at the same time. She spoke High Valyrian, a language dead to the humans, though many ancient immortals still spoke it. “Who sent you?”
Her body felt like flames crackling between them pressed against his back. He fought the desire to grind into her, wanting to soak up her heat. He swallowed, trying to concentrate upon the blade and keeping her guards away.
“We seek the immortal child. Take us to the child and no harm shall come to you or anyone else.”
As he spoke, Jon tried to use his mind to influence her decisions, to comply and lower the blade at his throat. Panic rose up in his chest as he couldn’t feel her thoughts or emotions, couldn’t deduce anything using his powers. Flicking back to the guards, he could still reach them clearly and with ease.
Never had he had difficulty using his powers on anyone. It was unsettling.
“You seem in no position to make demands of me,” she rasped in his ear, her voice sultry and dangerous, sending goose pimples down his spine.
“We both know that knife won’t hurt us. How about you lower it before I make you, sweetling?” Jon sounded more confident and cocky than he felt as he tried and failed once again to alter her mood.
“Look again, northerner. This is no ordinary blade.”
She proved her point by slicing his skin just enough to show him her words were true. The wound burned like she had forged the blade from the fires of hell itself.
“Valyrian steel,” Jon grunted through the searing pain.
She was outnumbered though, and she underestimated them. Robb had lunged towards her, expecting to disarm her. He was mistaken as she ducked and twirled just in time. They chased her around the room, looking pathetic for vampires as old as them as the young girl continued to dodge them.
“Over there,” Robb yelled out, as they continued to try to box her in. “We won’t let you leave here. We saw what the immortal child did to the House of the Undying. You may not be an immortal child, but you are just as monstrous.”
Her laugh rang out, bell-like and beautiful. “You mourn monsters while calling me one? I did what I had to do to survive.”
His hand reached out, feeling her silky strands as he wrapped around her arm, but then in a blur, she was gone again.
Frustrated, he growled. “You laugh at your destruction? The immortal children were banned. We all must drink blood to survive, we don’t draw attention to our kind and go on murderous rampages.”
The next attempt left him in her grasp again, her violet eyes were wild with anger as she roared at him. “They were enslaving the humans and lesser vampires and tried to enslave me and my people. Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor. They deserved what happened to them.”
Finally, Jon grabbed onto her, holding her wrist and her neck. Or so he thought until he heard her sing-song giggles and realized it was Robb in his vice-like grip. “I’ll ask once more before I introduce you to Aelerion, Rhaegal, and Viserion. Who are you and who sent you?”
“If you mean your guards, sweetling, they won’t be back for a while.” One of the many benefits of an immortal mind, they could multitask in ways humans were incapable of, as he continued to send the guards on a wild goose chase around the dilapidated city.
Her face betrayed her for a moment, worry lines marring that pretty face. His heart ached to see her, an innate need to protect her overcoming him now that his eyes were upon her. She schooled her features quickly, her eyes wide and innocent and taking his breath away.
They were purple, shining brighter than the most beautiful amethysts sparkling in the light. Never had there been a recorded being with eyes such a shade, immortals always having blue or red depending upon which faction created them. Was she the immortal child, or was she something else? Was she just like them, a new faction and helping to hide the immortal child, or was she the creation of Aerys?
His mind was spinning and he was losing more control as his mind was spread too thin to comprehend entirely.
“What are you?” Robb breathed next to him, sounding just as mystified and befuddled.
“Listen,” she commanded them, smiling sweetly. “What do you hear?”
He took a moment to do as she asked, curiosity getting the better of him. His Uncle Ned would be ashamed of the both of them, letting her speak for so long already but he pushed the guilt away. There! He could hear it, strong and steady, and way too fast for a human.
But he could feel it too, pulsing through her veins, her neck jumping as venom filled his mouth. His brother hissed next to him, his hunger gaining control. Jon’s hand was upon him, holding him back though he wasn’t sure why he stopped him. This was what they had come for, to kill her.
To his surprise, Robb relaxed before he could use his gift to do so. All the better so Jon could continue to distract the guards. They were nearly out of time, as they began to suspect something was amiss and they were fighting him more each minute.
“You’re not immortal. You’re- You-” He didn’t know what she was. She was a living thing, so alive, yet she wasn’t human. No human could have moved the way she did, escaping vampires hundreds of years old.
“Yes and no. I am both. Did you not feel the heat of my body?”
He had, but he didn’t comprehend at the time, his mind working between the guards and all that was happening as he tried to apprehend her.
“So you are the creation of Aerys Targaryen?” he accused, trying to sound as disgusted as he had before he walked into this room and laid eyes upon her.
“I am the daughter of my father, Daenerys Stormborn, of House Targaryen. My mother was Rhaella of House Velaryon and Aerys was my father.”
He opened his mouth to reply, but the words never came. Instead, the world went black. The guards must have returned.
***
“JoooOOoonn,” her sweet voice sang, mischievous giggles ringing through the air and reverberating straight to his cock. Warm breath tickled his ear, the scent of her human and enticing like a vampire making his mouth water as she spoke.
“Wake up, Jon,” she beckoned. Her purple eyes danced in front of him like bright flames in a fire, her pink puffy lips smirking down.
“Why do you want to kill me, Jon?” Silken silver strands hung around him like a curtain.
As he looked around to understand his surroundings he was gobsmacked at the skin so pale it sparkled like glitter exposed to his greedy eyes. His hand went to trace her collarbone, down to the curve of her pert breasts. Her small hand grasped him tightly holding him to her as he felt the erect rosy nipples between his index and middle fingers.
His throat was dry when he answered, cracking like his lips.
“I don’t.” He stiffened as he realized how true the words were. Pleased with his answer, she ground down on him, his aching cock rubbing against her slick folds. Barely he registered that he was as naked as she was. His free hand shot out to pull her closer and keep her there, moaning at the pleasure coursing through him.
Leaning down, her lips a breadth away from his, her tongue dipped out to taste him and swipe across his bottom lip.
“If you don’t want to kill me, tell me what you do want?”
She licked a trail across his jaw, nibbling on his ear lobe and sending shivers down his spine. He bucked beneath her, his cock twitching deliciously against her bare cunt. The smell of her arousal was dizzying.
“Ungh,” he cried out from the piercing pain at his neck as the silver siren sucked on him, lapping where his pulse point was though his heart was still and cold.
“Mmmm,” she moaned, grinding more incessantly.
He felt needy and desperate and so fucking thirsty. His eyes glowed blue, his incisors lengthening, as her heart thumped loudly. Her vein jumped incessantly, deafening and so enticing. Venom flowed in his mouth, he felt mad with desire and want.
The hand on her breast continued lower until he found the hardened little nub and she hissed. He went lower still until he grabbed the base of his cock. With his other hand, he grabbed her hair and pulled her ear to his mouth, causing her to groan.
“You,” he growled, as he rose his hips up to enter her tight channel while also pulling her down on him. “I want you.” Then he turned his head and bit into her, the hot gush of her blood flowing into his mouth as he swallowed it down like the glutton he was. His body sang as he filled her, and her lifesblood filled him.
He couldn’t stop, her taste unlike anything he had known. He was a fiend for her, turning into a mindless demon of deadly sin never getting enough. The squelching of her soaking pussy and the slapping of their skin echoed, as well as the rapacious slurping of their mouths.
And then the world exploded, the moon cracking into a thousand pieces that crashed to the earth as they cried out in pleasure like none had felt before, bodies convulsing until she was a lifeless heap above him. Her body fell limp and boneless on top of him as he turned his head to watch the dust and fire of the destruction come and swallow them until they were nothing.