Kissed By The Night

Kissed By The Night

Yes, this is a vampire story. No it's not based on Twilight. Yes, I'm sure.

Chapter 2

Once Bitten, Twice Shy

“Non Maman, I shan’t marry Antoine Lierre! He is a fat pig, is why! I would rather die a spincer than be his wife!” I, Maria Beauchamp yelled as I slammed the door behind me.
The date is February 14th 1810, three days past my birthday, and my mother has proposed another suitor, this one worse than the last. Every day I seemed to have the same conversation with her:

“I can make my own decisions I'm a woman now, I'm sixteen,” I would start
“Sixteen! You are but a stranger in this world my child, many of your friends are settled with children!” Fiona, my mother would counter.
“Maman, please allow me to make my own decisions,”

Always then it would escalate into arguments, anger and tears, only tonight it got too much and I walked out of the house and onto the cold, coastal streets of Marseille, my hometown. All around me men were drnk in bars, and strtwalkers waltzed around the streets with their brasts out of their dresses, purposely pressing them into men's view. They called out at them with there limp, damp hair and ruined teeth and taunted them, claiming that they had knowledge known only to God. These horrid women scared me.
I shivered and pulled my shawl tighter around my shoulders,
'This is a bad idea Maria, go home!' Cried the little voice inside my head, but no, I would not, and that was my first mistake of the night, but certainly not my last.
“My, my, how does one so pretty come to be alone on such dark cold streets at the night’s blackest hour?” a young man crooned in my ear. I gasped; I had not even heard him approach.
“Please, leave me alone, I’m tired, and cold and I wish to di3.” I complained dramatically, more to myself than to him. This was my second mistake, but still not my last. I would make two more, one of which would be my biggest mistake, my f@tal mistake.
I walked another two blocks, to the outside of my Father’s favourite bar, La Petit Mort, and wondered for a second if he was there that night. I briefly considered going in to speak to him, but was reminded of those dreadful wh0r3s that roamed the streets and bars. Those were the only women allowed in men's bars.
It was just after that when I realised that this stranger with the voice like golden syrup, - warm, sweet and inviting- had in act not left me alone, but continued to follow me, one step behind, perfectly in time with my own footsteps. I refused to face him and so said in a remarkably clear and cold tone:
“Sir, please leave me alone. As I have told you, I am not in the mood for everyday small talk. Now if you’ll excuse me I am going to H@ngman’s Dock, to be left alone with my thoughts. Good night to you sir!”
Ah well, that was my third mistake, I had told him where to find me. As I walked to my favourite thinking spot, the night got distinctly colder, my shawl seemed thinner, the wind sharper, and everything suddenly seemed against me, I then realised that the strangest feeling had crept over and enveloped me. I was scared. I had never known fear, not once. I was the one to bring injured animals to the healers whom everyone believed to be witches. I was the first to jump out of the trees, the one who stood up to the richer girls who looked down on us ‘poor’ people, and I never denied a challenge. Only now did fear start from the tips of my toes and creep up my spine right to the closed-quarters of my mind.
When I was in seeing distance of H@gman’s Dock I realised yet again that I was not alone. I could not tell if it was the man that had followed me, or it was just a local fisherman. Either way my lungs turned to ice, and breath was instantly impossible. The man came achingly slowly out of the mist that had surrounded him,
“Isn’t it a bit late out for you, Miss?” He said half kidding as he strolled past. I silently thanked God; it was a kindly old gentleman, and my neighbour, Monsieur Soioux. He was the last person that saw me alive. Well, apart from Jacques.
“Non, m-m-merci Monsieur” I whispered to his passing form, overwhelmed with relief. He had not followed me, and as soon as Monsieur had left my sight, I collapsed to the dock and began to cry tears of anger, fear and relief.
Hot, steamy tears ran down my cheeks, cascading like boiling waterfalls from my eyes never stopping, not once till they leapt off my chin and splashed cold onto my collarbone, making me shiver and reawakening my senses.
“There, there it’s all right my child look at Jacques, and all your worries shall disappear forever” He said as he reached from behind to embrace me.
To me that voice was one of an angel, to Miss Sensible screaming in my head it was the voice of Satan himself, as he tried to lead me down the road of good intentions to Hell. Maybe he was. But I did not care, and that was my final mistake. I did as his voice told me, as though I was in a trance and I turned around in such a way his hands did not move on my body and looked him in the eye, and all of a sudden my breath was gone, he was more beautiful, and more perfect than anyone I had ever known in my life, his skin was the colour of ivory and clear of all marks, but his lips were as red as the juice of cherries, -or blo0d, but I did not think of that at the time- he looked so delicate, but the way he cradled me told of amazing strength, his eyes, there is no way to describe them, they were a mixture of honey and almond, like liquid gold but they were rimmed with both scarlet red and this look of… hunger. Then he k!ssed me strong and deep, so deep I forgot about the hungry look in his eyes. In fact I thought Maybe he’s hungry for what I could provide? At that moment I would have done anything to annoy my mother. He was so cold, like a river in early spring, when the ice has begun to melt. But the p@ssion behind the k!ss was so raw and piercingly hot and real. I can only describe the k!ss that made me weak at the knees and awoke desires I had never before felt as ‘ice fire’, so hot it was cold and froze you to your depths, and to me -a pitiful v!rgin to men- this was what love was, true and honest.
“Maria, child, close thy eyes and accept me” he whispered, as he let my head droop to the side, leaving my neck exposed. His tongue drew lazy circles on my neck then out of the blue his teeth pieced my skin; my eyes flew open, Oh God the pain! But then a surge of bliss encased my soul. There was only a dull pain now, far, far way and surrounded by this feeling that everything was good and right in the world.
I then realised I could feel my lifeblood running from my veins, I could feel his absolute joy as my blood entered his mouth, staining that perfect white skin of his. I could feel as he released a small moan of delight as he tasted my warm,sweet, wet blood.
When I was nigh dead, I still felt that dull pain, some many miles away, but mainly I felt relieved. And not just because of the poison of his bite. No more Antoine, no more suitors, no more Maman! Was that what I really wanted?
At that moment he slit open his wrist and I drunk from it like a child dying of thirst. All thoughts of family left me. There was only his blood, and I needed it more than I had needed anything before. I tried to drain him as he had drained me. That was the moment when I felt the screaming pain that came from everywhere and ripped through my body. That was the moment I threw my head back and screamed in pure agony. That was the moment I lost my soul.

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