Aithusa’s POV"My child, there is a scene in the Narnia series where both the evil ones and the heroes are thrown into a dank shed. When Aslan comes those who want light and love soon walk into green and pleasant fields, they see the flowers, the sky, breathe fresh air. The creatures of darkness see none of this, believing themselves to be trapped. Don't you see, my love, we are there already. We are all in the shed right now, or at least the media might have you believe so. So I ask you, is this world a dank shed or a paradise? Because it can still be either. Would you be one to follow Aslan? For were not all good deeds a service to him regardless of professed religion? Would you have faith, be the angel of your better nature and see the pastures and the birds we still have? People intent on grumbling in the shadows, of being the harbingers of doom and malcontent you cannot help. Don't they say that there ar

 "Very good." He said with a small laugh to herself. It almost burnt in her eyes, she liked this one. Such nerve, hints of cunning. She could not figure him merely at a glance, which was a challenge. An intriguing change. Her fingertips slowly traced his waist; the small metallic ring of the metal parting was followed by the heavy rush of the fabric from his shoulders. He wore nothing beneath the robes which now lay upon the ground around his feet, her fingertips scraping up his stomach and over his chest as she pushed him gently. He shuddered with desire, wishing at his very core her hand would have lowered, not climbed. His cock was at full attention and completely on show. It had grown painfully quickly since the moment his eyes had become entranced upon her breasts. His head gleamed with precum which coated his tip, trailing luridly down his shaft. His manhood quivered for attention, but it was not what he received. Her push only seemed gentle. The

 Aithusa’s POVI close my eyes and throw my head back. I feel a wave of air pass over my neck as my long blonde hair lifts for a second before falling like water along my back. The club is dark, the music is thumping and the vibrations from the speakers are passing up from my stiletto clad feet, along my legs and up my spine as my body sways.Dancing has always turned me on; the moment a beat falls and my hips jut rhythmically and unconsciously. Something about a room full of people so consumed and filled by a common purpose that always made me feel new, fresh, enlivened.Tonight I'd started as part of a group and as always drifted off on my own as friends slowly tired and left. Just me and strangers left. Our bodies dangerously close, brushing but not touching. My arms are raised now, my smooth stomach exposed and my body moving slowly like a snake; my eyes are still closed but I can sense him getti

 Rook’s POVAt eight o’clock on a raw spring night I met the donor in a small eatery near the Old River Street bridge, just around the corner from the vampress' apartment. The weather that night was so perfectly suited to my mission that it almost seemed a joke, wet, dim, and misty, with fog climbing up from the river in the cool air and blurring all the hard edges of that grimy mill town. From a block away the diner was no more than a soft pink neon glow in the silent and obscuring fog.As he had promised, the donor was seated at the counter wearing a green jacket and a red scarf. There were very few people out on a night like this, so the diner was empty, and I saw him as soon as I stepped inside. He didn’t turn around, but I suspect he must have seen me in the mirror behind the counter.“J?” I asked.“Yes.” he said. He wore dark glasses through which

 I went out on the sun porch and flipped on the TV. News, crap, sports, crap, news…I heard Rachel laugh a little too eagerly in the front room. In her bedroom, on her dresser, I noticed a tray bearing a bottle of rubbing alcohol, Kleenex and paper towels, some band aids, a razor blade, and a bowl of water. It looked like a junkie’s set-up and it made me sick.I’ll give them an hour, I thought, and I closed the door.After twenty minutes I began to pace. I’d turned the TV off, and it was very quiet in the apartment. Rachel had never gone into the details of what would happen, of how she'd get the blood out of him, so I didn’t know whether it should be this quiet or not. She'd assured me that she knew what she was doing, that this kind of feeding was done a