By the fire (Raul)

Raul descended from the night sky onto his balcony, coat billowing as his feet touched stone. His hunger was partially sated, but only partially. Alessandra had been exquisite, but he was already thinking of his next conquest. Another warm body to drink deeply from.

He walked inside and shrugged off his coat, letting it pool on the floor. Slowly, deliberately, he removed each piece of clothing—boots unlaced and kicked aside, pants unbuttoned and dropped, shirt pulled over his head. Naked, he padded into the bathroom.

His reflection stared back from the mirror. Dried blood streaked his face and he licked at it slowly, savoring the memory of Alessandra's taste. His fangs lengthened dramatically at the thought, extending to monstrous proportions. He took a deep breath, willing calm over himself. They retracted to a less obvious size, though his eyes still blazed crimson.

He turned the shower to its hottest setting. His cold body relished the artificial warmth, steam filling the space. As he soaped himself, his hands traveled over his physique, pausing to appreciate his endowment. It throbbed in his hand at the slightest touch—he wasn't nearly finished with the night.

He dried off and prepared for another outing, selecting his wardrobe with care. Dark dress pants that hugged his form, patent leather shoes polished to a mirror shine. From his closet he retrieved a cloak—old-fashioned, theatrical, perfect. He tossed it behind his back and let it settle against his shoulders, the satin fabric slipping cool against his bare torso. He fastened it around his neck. The high collar framed his face perfectly, mysterious and predatory.

Again he took to the sky, hunting for an appropriate meal in the sprawling city below. He could sense other night owls seeking solace in darkness, could smell fear and sex on the air like perfume. A quiet neighborhood drew him—specifically, the flickering light of a fire in a backyard.

A woman sat beside it, reading a book, a half-empty glass of wine at her side. Alone. Perfect.

He descended behind her silently. She remained completely unaware of his presence, absorbed in her book. He approached slowly, cape flowing behind him until he stood directly at her back. He decided to play with her mind first—a bit of foreplay.

He pushed into her consciousness gently, planting desire and compliance, erasing alarm. Then he tossed his cape over her body and wrapped his cold arms around her chest, inhaling her scent—vanilla and wine and warm skin. His lips found her neck, kissing and sucking at her flesh.

She didn't scream. Didn't struggle. The compulsion held her perfectly.

He came around the lounge chair to face her. She'd been reading in nothing but a silk robe, which had fallen open. Her naked body sprawled before him, firelight dancing across her skin. She brought her knees to her chest and bit her lip, eyes traveling over his bare torso and the bulge visible beneath his pants.

He threw his cape dramatically behind his body and walked toward her, unfastening his pants. He lifted her legs, positioning them against his body. She held her breasts, massaging herself, moaning as she felt his cock pressing against her opening.

But he couldn't wait any longer.

In one swift movement, he grasped her head and bent it forcefully to the side, his fangs extending fully. With a long, dragged-out hiss, his mouth descended upon her neck.

Blood pooled in his mouth as she gasped and struggled instinctively. He sucked eagerly, holding her shoulders to keep her still. His cock was already engorged from his earlier feeding with Alessandra, and as he drank it swelled harder and larger.

He pulled back and took a breath, surveying her. Blood trailed down her chest in rivulets. He came around to face her again, willing her to remain calm through their mental connection. She was intoxicated by his bite, the venom already working through her system. Despite the pain, she desired more.

In a euphoric state of déjà vu, he approached her again, releasing his shaft fully from his pants. He raised her legs and entered her in one thrust, her body accepting him with wet heat. He pumped his hips rhythmically as she fondled herself, lost in compelled pleasure.

Her body tensed, muscles trembling. Adrenaline flooded her system, heart racing, body approaching shock from blood loss. Yet she only moaned louder.

He continued fucking her with steady rhythm, glaring down at her with blazing red eyes, fangs on full display. "Do you want to experience the heights of pleasure your body craves so dearly?"

All she could manage was a quiet, rhythmic chant: "Yes... yes... yesssss..." as his cock continued penetrating her.

Panting, she whispered, "My body is yours to take, master..."

Raul increased his speed until she was nearly screaming in satisfaction. His mouth descended on her body again as he screwed her, finding another virgin spot on her neck to bite. With his fangs piercing her flesh, she reached a raging orgasm. His load released inside her as she simultaneously gushed, fluids offering themselves to him.

But he didn't stop drinking.

He continued sucking, pulling not just blood but something deeper—her essence, her vitality, her very soul. He felt it flowing into him like liquid fire, her life **** feeding his immortal existence. Her eyes went distant and glassy. Her movements became sluggish, mechanical.

Finally he stopped and withdrew, both from her neck and her body. He stood, looking down at her.

She was still breathing—shallow, irregular breaths. Her heart still beat—weak and arrhythmic. But her eyes were empty. Vacant. She stared at nothing, mouth slightly open, drool beginning to collect at the corner of her lips.

He'd taken her soul but left her body functioning. A living shell. She would continue existing like this—eating only for sustenace, walking dazed and directionless. A zombie in all but name, hollowed out and purposeless.

It was, in some ways, crueler than ****.

He fastened his pants and walked to the fire, now just embers and ash. For a moment he felt fully satisfied—not just fed, but energized by the soul he'd consumed.

He took again to the air, his cape floating dramatically behind him, leaving her sitting naked and blank-eyed by the dying fire, a broken vessel that would never be whole again.