"The Turning" by Karen Stevens

The Turning

Exquisite, terrifying pleasure as I lose myself in his dark gaze; his fingers brush lightly against my throat, icy. I shiver, fear and desire hopelessly intertwined as he takes hold of my shoulders, his grip as firm and possessive as any lover's, and draws me close with gentle strength.

I think I catch the flicker of gentle amusement on his face, dark eyes tender before I feel the breath of softly murmured words on my neck.

My skin prickles with longing; the heat of lust surges up in my groin and belly as the flesh succumbs willingly to his seduction. His hands trace briefly over my body before he pulls gently at my hair, tilting my head back and baring my neck, his lips on my skin in a moment of impossible, agonised anticipation.

And then his lips draw back, teeth sinking directly into the artery where my pulse beats so rapidly without hesitation. I cry out and slump against him, caught in his embrace as the split second of pain becomes an ecstasy of dark pleasure; lovers now in truth, any purely physical coupling only a pale echo of this. Ecstatic pleasure as he draws the blood from my veins. I know this will kill me if he doesn't stop but I don't care, can't care...

As my heart falters and cold greyness seeps through me, all I feel is a disappointment that it's over so soon. All sensation begins to fade; I know he has an arm locked around my wais, but as my knees buckle I can no longer feel it. Falling...

...Something hot on my face, on my lips. I swallow and taste something as hot as lava, rich and darkly sweet like pure chocolate. I open heavy eyes and see a glint of red. It draws me irresistibly and I lunge forward, my fingers digging savagely into his flesh as I fasten on the wound offered.

Ah – another wave of pleasure engulfs me as I drink from the wound, savouring the sweet, dark taste of his blood.

“Enough; you've taken enough.” His voice is soft but implacable. He catches hold of the back of my neck and draws my mouth away with the same gentle strength he used to pull me close.

I don't try to resist, too caught up in the after-echoes of pleasure and the strange sensations I can feel; licking his blood from my lips like an animal, I can feel a hot, feral energy trembling in my veins, but at the same time I can feel a contented lassitude slipping over my senses.

He draws me up from where we both kneel on the floor, laying the gentle whisper of a kiss on my brow, and again I slump against him. “Rest, little one; the change takes time.” He murmurs softly. I barely hear his words as I slide into darkness. A lone whisper echoes faintly in my mind: what have I done? before it all disappears into warm, dark red oblivion.