15 - The New Religion - Lily
My soul screams out, crying for me not to let her take my hand. I knowI shouldn't, but I'm beyond caring. Whatever happens, it doesn't matter now, I think in my hypnotic haze.
I watch with a misty gaze as she curls her long, slender fingers around my hand, gently dragging her sharp nails over the tender flesh of my wrist. She bends her lips to my hand, pressing them to my skin with perfect sensuality. They are the petals of her mouth, just as those of a rose, and as soft, pink, and delicate as the same. I shudder at her touch, both from the indescribably fear of what she is, and from the beauty of the caress of her lips.
I suck in a gasp as her teeth make contact with the skin of my wrist. Suddenly I am aware of my own pulse and how fast it is, and how the blood must be surging through my veins now. My hand is trembling in her grasp. I could still get away... do I dare?
I can't tear my eyes away from her mouth, and watch with rapid, shallow breath as she bites into my wrist. My flesh being punctured is a tiny, sickening sound, like the skin of an apple being broken. An instantaneous though almost overwhelming wave of nausea sweeps over me, but the aftermath of it is just as quickly absorbed and replaced with an ecstasy unlike any I've ever felt before. I moan involuntarily and clench my teeth against the sensations ravishing every nerve in my body, as though an unparalleled orgasm is raging through me. A constant stream of pain is present throughout the ecstasy, but only adds to the pleasure. I'm sure I can actually feel the blood flowing from my open vein and into her mouth.
She brings her mouth close to my ear. "Did you like that?" she whispers. I can feel how warm she is now, and how cold she was then...
"Yes," I breathe. She smiles again and makes no effort to clean the blood from her mouth, which she moves close to mine, and I kiss her hungrily. I taste the blood from her lips and relish it; my own blood is no longer salty, but sweet and warm - I crave it.
She pulls away and I watch as she pierces her own wrist with her bite. The puncture is clean, and the blood quickly beads in a beautiful, perfect globe on her snowy skin. She urgently holds up her wrist to my mouth, and I take it. At once I taste that warm sweetness. I feel it on my lips, in my throat. It warms me to the very core, and I drink deeply from her. I hear her moan and I suck gently, as though nursing. The blood is immediately addictive - I must have more; I crave it, I desire it. I feel the life rush into me like a river, renewing me completely, like rebirth.
She tugs her wrist from me but I clutch it, holding it tight, and drink deeper.
"Stop..." she pleads, and, reluctantly, I obey. She is now noticeably paler than before, but still, she is beautiful. She rubs her wrist carefully.
"Now you see, Taylor," she says and smiles. "The ugly truth. Welcome to the new religion."
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