The Dark Sire Issue 2 (Winter 2019) | Page 15

was a large candelabra on the table, and as she sat, she noticed for the first time the white translucence of their skin. Instead of being afraid, she found it to be just another aspect of their intoxicating beauty. Nathan slid the long skirt of her gown up her legs and focused his attention on unfastening the buckles of her shoes. As he bared her feet, he planted small kisses upon them. She barely felt it as the kisses became nibbles and small bites. Julian stepped around behind her and, leaning over her shoulder, availed himself of the tender flesh which extended above her low-cut gown. Swept up in the passion of the moment, she wriggled to escape the bondage of her remaining clothing. When finally, she sat naked before them, the three friends murmured their appreciation. “Ah, Nathan,” said Elliot, “such a wonderful choice. The hands of an artiste are never calloused or rough.” And with that he lifted her hand and took a vigorous bite, blood quickly flowing and coating his lips and chin. Giselle’s eyes flared like those of a horse feeling the whip for the first time, and she cried out at her pain. Julian stepped forward. “Ah, Nathan,” he began, “it is indeed a wonderful choice. Not the tough, sinewy muscles of a dancer, no, but the soft, full roundness of an opera singer.” His lips peeled back, revealing his fangs, and he bit her left breast savagely, causing the blood to spurt as if it were a fountain in their garden. At last she screamed out as she recognized the peril into which she had allowed herself to be drawn. But it was too, too late. Nathan moved toward Gisselle. 13