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Chapter 7 by Jnightshade Jnightshade

Who do you desire?

Your daytime protector needs sharp eyes.

The aroma of Chase's blood smells tempting. Grayboar certainly would be a fine guardian in closed quarters. However, you want the best possible set of eyes to keep you safe. By the time you get to Nadine's tent you can smell her blood. You grow wet with the thought of taking her. You slip inside.

She looks up. "Oh, priestess, I didn't here you come in."

"Sorry, I didn't realize I was so light on my feet. I seem to have gotten something in my eye, can you take a look?"

Nadine peers into your eyes, which you know are now glowing an eerie red.

"Priestess...your eyes..."

"Relax, Nadine, there is no need to call out." You see her body visibly relax. You bare your fangs and strike, sinking them into her neck. You are in ecstacy as her blood and life **** flow into you. Just yesterday what you are doing would have disgusted you. Now, with the bloodlust upon you you eagerly suck and catch every precious drop. You feel her life begin to fade and with the discipline that made you an accomplished healer you stop. Nadine falls to the ground. You slice your tongue with your sharp black fingernail. As it begins to bleed you pull Nadine into a kiss. At first you fear she is dead. Then she begins to kiss you back ever more passionately, seeking every precious drop of your black blood.

As you pull back you look into her eyes and see worship there. You smile. "Quickly before the sun rises, attend my pussy, then see to it that I am safe."

With reverence in her voice she responds,"Yes, mistress."

She dives into your open legs, licking and sucking with fervor. Just as the sun rises you orgasm. As the first rays of light hit the tent you fall back into ****, knowing you have a dedicated thrall guarding you.

The next night you reach the hills and cross a small mountain trail. Below you is an encampment of orcs, a citadel, and what looks to be a monastery. The citadel would seem to be the most fertile hunting ground. Still the monastery means priests and priestesses, dangerous, but perhaps tasty.

Orc blood, priestess blood, or human blood?

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