Category: Vampiric Tendencies

She had to acknowledge that
His emotional intelligence

Seemed to well match
Her own inclinations.

Does not demand subservience
Nor does she admonish or plead

She simply asks with reason and
Then leaves if nothing concedes

She pulled back her psychic tendrils as best she could to wrap around her form and hold her tightly within their cocoon in order to not distract him from what needed doing.

(Title play with words)

She was always going to want and need more.

“You are mine –
Now rise again”

Yielding grace and time
Before proper initiations
Made her growly hungry

Darest not awaken her
Without plenty of food

Lest be unleashed a
Mad ravenous force

Which doth not care
For patient piousness

And will seek to gorge
Denied its main course

I’m falling into you
No makeup just cracks

On the surface of life
Well striven for

He had distanced for some reason, and the absence of their mind link left a need to feed in her more intense than any thirst for quenching nourishment.

She threw up a psychic wall around her mind so that she could internally scream and throw her energies of extreme vexation at it without harming her beloved.

When she could feel his ache, she needed to ease it – but he was still too far away for her to reach out and hold him.

“And your smiling lips, too.”

“I like your neck,” she sent out to him playfully, as the tip of her tongue felt her sharp canine and she chuckled to herself, impishly.

“Where do you travel now, my love?
In your heart, where is your home?”

In her ancestry’s lore there was a place forbidden entry to most humans, and only welcome to couples who loved wholeheartedly.

“So, what’s the plan?” she sent out, wondering if he would hear her and answer.

Every wound
Would be

The adults had warned her to forget about the painting.

If anything, they said, she should only remember the conflict portrayed in the man’s face – and keep that as a warning reminder to never venture into exploring her ancestry’s history.

But one thing she knew had became undeniably clear to her the moment she had seen the man and the woman he carried in his arms.

The woman had had such a look of pure and content happiness in her slumber – like all of the world’s cares had been removed from her now smoothed brow, where only the faintest of worry lines could still be seen in the dimmed corridor lighting.

Somehow, she knew that this joy was because the woman had been given the choice to choose her own destiny.

And she had chosen to be with the man she loved – finding the choice to be worth any risks that the adults were warning her of.

If evil
Actively corrupts

So too must
Good actively protect

She wanted him
Like life’s blood

But she spoke
To the heavens

Instead of the gods
For she knew deities

Characteristically
To be treacherous

She was more than passionate
Celestial propulsion incarnate

What was it about warriors
Why did they always delay?

Females new the difference
Between dark and light play

Although she had to admit
She had limited experience

As catching the wind’s scent
His heat made her delirious

It is not absence of scars
Nor perfect resilience

Nor conquered fear in
Hind brain’s insistence

But knowledge of lore
As two become as one

Strengthening
Both overcome

How could he walk
Tall and assuredly?

She knew that he
Must be starving

What efforts
To not ravage

Must be
Tolling

She carefully
Moved closer

For once her
Guard down

Entranced
In wonder

As she observed him
From safe distance

Ancestral memories
Illuminated evidence

Change as irreversible
Once man succumbed

She now witnessed a
Legend embracing sun

She hadn’t had
A worthy male
In her territory

And was both
Excited and
Reserved

For they were
Rumored rare
To still exist

And he was
A proven
Warrior

With an
Intoxicating
Kiss

Time delves
Into fathoms

What will bring
True love to me?

Growing up in a land of humans, she was expected to only associate with their males,  with regards to future partnership.

She was told that what she instinctively longed for in pair bonding was only fantasy, and that she, herself, was just an odd human.

But the boys always picked on her or hurt her, and they seemed to not become real men.

She dreamed of being able to help her father who had been banished to a far off land, left to dwell in isolation while being slowly covered by his own ash.

She had come across a piece of art hidden on a wall in a secret corridor that she had found when she was a very young child, and had been told to tell no one about it.

She had wondered if this was because the adults present at the time would have gotten into trouble for exposing her to a version of erotica.

But she had thought that the large painting was very beautiful, and had been fascinated by the intricate details of the man’s facial expression showing his inner conflict and deep love for the woman he was carrying.

She knew that she should be alarmed by the portrayal of blood dripping from his fanged mouth – and the matching bite on the sleeping woman’s neck – but to her, their union seemed to be an amazing love story.

Generations of women and children had been slaughtered, simply because they had come to know the healing ways of nature.

She began to realize that there was some power in being seen as a tasty snack.