Deborah paid the driver and bolted out of the cab, almost tripping over her own feet. As she raced up the steps to her three story town home, she dropped the keys. She noticed the cab had driven off, and the street was deserted and silent.
Dim lighting was a major concern for her at this point in time. The silver moon, which now resided high in the starlit sky was veiled behind a band of billowy clouds. Deborah's stomach twisted into knots. She wished with every fiber of her being the sun would rise, but much to her dismay, that was five hours away.
Cursing beneath her breath, she bent down and snatched the keys from the ground. As she continued up three more steps, an eerie feeling made the hairs on her body stand on end. It felt like someone was right on her heels. Frantically, she fumbled for the house key. The presence made itself known, and the force beckoned her once more. She gasped as thick fog, possessing a life all its own filled the street.
"Oh God, please help me!" She shouted out. After finding the key, Deborah proceeded to unlock the front door with clumsy, fumbling hands. She turned again, gasping at how the fog had thickened. She experienced a small shred of comfort as she crossed the threshold to her expensive home.
Before closing the door behind her, she made the horrible mistake of viewing the street again. There, in the mist stood an unmoving figure in black. Her chest tightened, and the palms of her hands became sweaty as she discovered fog and the figure were the only things she could see. Manevolent laughter infiltrated her mind, sending a chill down her spine.
"Leave me alone!" Deborah screamed at the top of her lungs, fearing for her life and sanity. Tears brimmed in her eyes and splashed on her cheeks as she felt the darkness invade her aura.
With shaky hands, she slammed the door shut and latched the dead bolt lock. Clutching her chest, she bumped into the ottoman as she searched for the light switch; as though it would make a difference in calming her fears.
She stood, scanning over the plush living room to ease her fragile eggshell mind. Her entire body shuddered, and her limbs were heavy as she trudged over to the sliding glass doors to ensure they were locked. She cursed herself, and loathed the feeling at the lack of control over her shivering body. She was not used to this feeling of helplessness.
A thud on the outside of her home startled Deborah, forcing her to check all three levels of her home. The home where she no longer possessed peace of mind. She bit her lip in utter frustration as she fled down the stairs. To her relief, the basement was secure, as were the rooms on the third level. Tired, she craved the comfort of her bed, and sleep, but at this point, that was not possible.
Deborah flopped on her bed and flicked on the television. The night's events replayed themselves in her mind, and drifted to the one who sought to drive her insane. She cringed, because now the erotic experience at the party made itself known. It was as though someone allowed her access to that part of her mind which had been shut down earlier.
The man with sandy blond hair flashed in her mind. She closed her eyes, fighting against the urge to masturbate. He was the one who offered her such exquisite torture, there in the presence of the entire office. This person was the one who stalked her, now taking up residence outside her very home. He was no mortal man, she knew. Her gut twisted as she pondered what he was.
There would be no peaceful sleep tonight. Succumbing her tired body to it could mean her demise. One 'o clock, she murmured to herself. She rubbed her arms, to ward off the chill she was experiencing, and turned as she spied something move out the corner of her eye.
"Hello!" There was no way in hell he could have gotten in the house, but then again, this phantom creature hid in the wake of an unnatural fog. It was quite possible he could do anything. She called out again.
"Look, I'm going to call the police!" Unfortunately, that brought her no comfort. Deborah whisked out her BlackBerry and screamed at the lack of bars it displayed. Try as she may, 9-1-1 was not accessible to her. She screamed as she heard footsteps in the hallway. They were heavy, slow, and menacing, striking fear down the center of her psyche.
"What do you want?" Deborah slid off the bed as tears streamed down her face. On all fours, she retreated to her large walk in closet and quietly closed the doors.
"You." A voice called through the locked door. The voice was accompanied by a scratching sound, like claws. She squeezed her eyes shut and inched her way into a corner in the closet. She picked up one of her stiletto heels. She'd have no problem taking this thing's eye out.
"Who the hell are you?" Deborah swallowed hard as she realized this was possibly her last moment on earth. The image of the phantom she encountered in the street embedded itself in her mind, and a chill sliced through her; turning the blood in her veins to ice water. The scratching sound started again, this time louder. He was intentionally stoking fear in her.
"I am your salvation, and your damnation." His voice grew louder, he was now in the room. "I am the one you betrayed, long ago. I am the one who will reap the rewards of laying your soul to waste!"
The voice was deep, and erotic, dulling her senses. It was demonic and angelic at the same time. Unable to move, like at the party, Deborah released a whimper from her lips. Heart pounding so hard, it hurt, throat so dry, it ached; she screamed aloud as the presence flung the closet doors open.
Through the fabric of her clothes, she spied haunting blue, glowing eyes. The thing, this demon, or whatever he was inhaled. She could hear his breathing, and smell the slight stench of death. How could she have known what death smelled like?
"I hear the pounding of your heart. It calls to me, my beauty, my sweetest Josephine." The creature inhaled again, "Ah, the blood coursing through your veins, sounds like waves of the ocean, hitting the sandy shores of a small island."
Deborah screamed as hands of ice tightened around her ankles, and an unseen force pulled her from the the closet. Something made her drop the shoe, and she whimpered. She couldn't move now, and prayed for freedom, far from the demon seeking possession over her. In all this chaos, she observed the bedroom door, which somehow was still closed.
Something pushed her flat on her back, and held her there. She looked up at the figure as light from the television caressed his pale features. Sweat beaded her brow, and her hands were clammier than before. The presence was strong, and penetrated her mind again. Her body froze and a scream died in her throat. She could barely speak as her mind clouded over once again.
"Wh--what do you want from me?" Those words were all Deborah could manage. The creature knelt next to her. She struggled to move away, and cursed when she could not.
"I've told you, already. You vex my temper, woman. You should know, I am not a man used to repeating himself." She heard the fabric of her clothes tear, and in an instant lay naked and vulnerable before the beast. Icy hands traveled along her heated skin, stinging her skin with coldness. She shivered uncontrollably as her legs were pulled apart, and his fingers sought refuge in her wet crevice. Wet? But, how could this be, how could he have this affect on her when he scared the very life from her?
"Please," Were the only word she could muster. God help her, she was enjoying this treatment. Deborah gasped as he summoned the juices from her throbbing pussy. She squeezed her eyes shut as her nipples hardened. Nails dug into, but did not penetrate the soft flesh of her thighs. She shuddered from the pleasure and fear of this unholy creature. Was he an incubus, a thing who sought her out for a night's worth of forbidden carnal pleasures?
As though reading her mind, the phantom spoke. Both hands were now exploring her body. She sighed as they traveled over her stomach, to her round breasts. Cold fingers tweaked diamond hard nubs which ached for his touch. He interrupted the pleasure as he yanked his hands from her breasts.
"I am Alain. My life ended evenings after you deserted me." His voice ended with a growl, and was as cold as his hands, causing goosebumps to erupt over her delicate flesh.
Glowing eyes of blue glared into her soul, and a growl caused her to wince. He smiled, showing off a pair of fangs.
"Alain," Deborah murmured as the blue eyes held her prisoner. There was something she needed to give him. She turned her head, her eyes still staring into his. Without regret, she revealed her neck to him.
"My sweet Josephine, it is not your neck I desire to drink from." A hand toyed with her breasts, then slid down her belly, and into the soft thatch of hair on her mound. "You are sinfully wet for me, then again, any man's touch arouses you." Anger flashed in his eyes. "I discovered that about you centuries ago!"
"Why do you call me Josephine? My name is Deborah." She blinked once, after not having done so for a few moments. She was aware of all that went on, and moaned as Alain's finger invaded her tight hole. Deborah's body enjoyed the creature's ministrations, and she moaned.
Alain laughed, sending a jolt of wicked sensations to her core, and a death chill down her spine.
"No love, you are Josephine, through and through. Do you want to cum?" Alain began toying with the fleshy bud that so craved his attention. "What do you want? What do you wish to gain, in this miserable little existence you call life?"
"My name is Deborah." She continued staring into the sweet abyss of his blue eyes. She witnessed the vampire's face change into a grotesque mask of anger as he leaned over her, pressing his body against hers.
"No Josephine, I will show you who, and what you truly are."
She held her breath as the creature released her from his hypnotizing effects. His lips curled, baring his fangs, causing his nose to wrinkle in a sexy, yet animalistic way. With that, he slid down the length of her body, flicking his tongue in zones that brought tingling sensations to the depths of her core. He paused to spread her quivering thighs even wider while reveling in the wetness between them.
"Oh, God!" Deborah moaned, turning her head from side to side as the vampire's tongue mercilessly lapped and nibbled at her swollen clit. She thought she'd climb the walls as his tongue slid inside her pussy, rewarding the creature with a flow of hot cream. Alain ceased his actions long enough to speak.
His cold voice swept through her like an Arctic chill. He paused a few seconds, then continued another series of tongue lashes against Deborah's quivering flesh. "Mmm, your taste is exquisite, just as I remember."
She thrust her hips up, wanting him to devour her whole. An inhuman growl entered her ears, but at this point, she didn't care if she was becoming concubine to the devil himself. She looked down, viewing the strange face of the creature that brought her such maddening pleasure. It turned her on to see her wetness saturating his face. Longing sizzled her insides as she watched his wicked tongue slip from between delicious lips to claim the juices he'd coerced from her body.
Please, don't stop." Deborah thought she'd die if she didn't have some part of of him deep inside her. Fingers, cock, or tongue, it mattered not. The fire down below ignited, full force; and she would continue to burn with her desire until he chose to quench it.
"Wanting more, I see, as always. Sorry, now the time has come for me to fulfill my own desire, and hunger." Deborah cringed because his words struck a dark chord in her soul. While holding her gaze, he commenced to plunge his fangs deep into her inner thigh.
"Uhhh!" Clenching her teeth, she rested her hands on the head of the beast, and threaded her fingers through silky hair. The pain intensified, then dulled, and was soon followed by a pleasure she'd never experienced in her entire life. Hot liquid seeped down her inner thigh as the creature continued feeding from her while toying with her pulsating pussy. Plunging two long digits inside her, he finger fucked Deborah until she screamed at the top of her lungs.
Teetering on the edge of what she thought would be one of the best orgasms she'd experienced, images of another time and place flitted through her mind. An intense orgasm filtered through her body as she felt herself falling, and soon, unknown memories invaded her psyche.
* * *
Josephine Lacroix screamed as Alain shook her. She was peering into the eyes of a madman, but had she not provoked it?
"I loved you! How could you do this to me, you manipulative whore? Why Josephine, why?" His face was three shades red as he released her, purposely putting space between them. "I will never forgive you for this!"
"Keeping me in slavery isn't love, Alain!" Josephine spat back. Her heart raced wildly as she answered to him for her actions of loving another.
"You vile bitch! You don't even have an inkling of remorse in your pathetic, black soul!" Josephine watched as Alain turned to her again, hatred masking his handsome features.
"Did you know, it was Clarissa who informed me of your sickening tryst? My naivety blinded me to the truth, as I thought she sought revenge on you for what happened six months ago. The truth was revealed to me last night, as father lay dying, on his death bed! My father begged my forgiveness, and for me not to hold any ill will toward you!"
Josephine remained still, casting her gaze to the polished, wooden floor. Remorse did not cultivate inside her like she knew he wished. Hopefully, he'd end this little temper tantrum so she could be on her way, to new beginnings with the new love of her life.
"Alain, you kept me enslaved, even after the new laws passed! It was the prodding of your father to free me!" She watched as the man who declared his love for her paced the floors, casting her a seething look every now and again.
"Is it true Josephine?"
"Is what true?"
"Don't be coy with me, woman. I believe in my father with every ounce of my faith, but I need to hear it from your lips." Alain's blue eyes pleaded with her, but she remained silent. "Do you love another, a man who used to be a slave? Have you plans of leaving me for him?"
Josephine looked away from Alain's piercing eyes. She thought he'd kill her if she admitted to anything. It was best to remain silent. She loved him, at least she thought she did. Now, they had grown apart.
"I'm a free woman now. You cannot hold me here, and I've stayed longer than I should, only for the sake of your father." Josephine's chest heaved as the very site of Alain repulsed her.
"You use people, for your own desires, pretending to be a victim, when in fact it is the trust of others you victimize! God help me for loving you, but I do! I fear my heart will always be a slave to you. That is something I cannot deny. I shall remember all you have done, and carry it to my grave. Alain pointed to her. "You will pay for your actions, if not in this life, another. I assure you! Now leave me, before I do something we both will regret!"
"I will pray for you, Alain," Josephine murmured as she inched towards the door, grateful the conversation had ended.
"Get out, whore!" Alain roared at the top of his lungs as an object was hurled at her. She wasted no time scampering towards the door, now more than ever, concerned for her safety. She cringed as she heard a vase smash against the wall. Josephine continued to flee, down the stairs of DuBourg Manner and to the front door, listening as an enraged Alain continued his bout of anger. Her bags were waiting, and wasting no time, she picked them up and ran as fast as she could to the man, a former slave, whom she'd spend the rest of her life with.
* * *
With a scream, Deborah awoke to find herself naked and lying on the soft maroon carpet of her bedroom floor next to her closet doors. Her clothing lay in shreds beneath her. Sunlight filtered through the Venetian blinds, damn near blinding her. Dazed and slightly confused, she glanced around her bedroom. Last night, she could have sworn the blinds were closed. Dried blood clung to her leg, and she winced as she rose to her feet. Her body was stiff, and her mind fought to comprehend the strange dream she had awakened from.
She reached down, touching her inner thigh and cried out at what she felt. Looking closer, she saw two small, slightly raised punctures.
"Oh my God, oh my dear God!" Her pulse quickened, and her heart raced as she remembered everything. The vampire drank from her femoral artery. It was an exquisite pleasure, but her mind wanted to deny the occurrences of early this morning. Even more, she wanted to free herself from the haunting dream. Or, was it a past life he'd given her a glimpse of? The man, the vampire was human in this dream, and apparently, she'd wronged him.
Deborah headed to the shower to ease tense muscles and wash away the dried blood. As she stood beneath the water, she stared straight ahead, her mind pondering many questions.
Deborah remembered everything from the dream, or the memory. Was it possible for the vampire to implant his memories into her mind? She recalled the exquisite furniture of the magnificent home, and the extravagant bedroom where she and Alain argued. Had she really been a slave, in the British Colony of Jamaica? She'd been manipulative in gaining her freedom, but at what cost? Hell, why she should have regrets for her actions in a past life, nonetheless, one she had no memories of, until now?
It was Saturday morning, and by nightfall, Alain would come for her. He may even kill her without hesitating. He ingested her blood, so now, he'd be closer to her than ever. She closed her eyes and shook her head. Her life was about to change for the worse, she knew it.
* * *
Alain lay in his coffin, witnessing the thoughts plaguing the mortal woman's mind. Thanks to him, she'd experienced a large dose of her past life. He so loved how he invoked fear and lust inside her. Licking his lips, he closed his eyes in remembrance of almost draining her dry, of her blood and juices. Even better, he savored her fear of knowing he'd return when the sun retired. He could hear her heart beating against her ribcage, and he laid out the blueprints for his revenge.
Originally, he wanted to kill her, but longed to prolong her fear of death. He had followed her long enough to know her likes and dislikes. The sight of blood made her cringe, to the point of almost passing out. She was afraid of dying, and how she would die. Also, the thing she held dearest in life was her precious job and the man who provided her with her material possessions, and comfortable lifestyle.
He snarled, knowing she once was a high end call girl and now was "kept" by a man fifty years her senior. He should have slain her then, the first time she turned a trick. Alain hissed at the thought of the man bedding Josephine. True, in this life, she was Deborah, but he chose to use her birth name, given to her in 1818. Fond memories came flooding back and he almost smiled. She had been born in the slave quarters of DuBourg Manner, and unlike her brother, Solomon, father never sold her.
He was five years her senior, and when she was fifteen, he'd taught her how to read and write. As a teenager, she was so innocent, and child-like. Unknowingly to her, she'd captured his heart. When she turned eighteen, they confessed their love for one another. He remembered the day he claimed her virginity. It was all so crystal clear. From there, things took a turn for the worse.
Two years later, laws were passed, and owners freed their slaves. Yes, he was such a selfish man, especially when Josephine spoke of seeing the world, exploring her freedom, as she put it. They had grown apart, and it killed him.
Father had fallen ill, and Josephine lingered at DuBourg manner to continue caring for him, until Jacques convinced him to free her. The two had grown quite fond of one another, and Alain found himself becoming jealous, of his own father. Other memories entered his mind and he hissed again. He'd been made a fool of. He clenched his fists until his nails drew blood.
Now, he held her in the palm of his hand. There was so much he could do to exact his revenge on her. At first, he was going to kill her, but now, seeing how she treasured certain things in her mortal life, he decided on alienating her from that which she treasured the most.
Yes, revenge was indeed a dish best served cold, Alain thought as he plummeted into the sleep of the vampire.