Farah:
I am so close to telling him that I'd like him to bite me and yet I can't understand why. In an attempt to stop myself from saying anything as stupid as 'yes please', I keep my mouth firmly clamped shut.
He steps towards me and I stumble backwards, but he grabs me by the waist, pulling me against himself. My heart is pounding in my chest as I struggle to get free.
'Let me go,' I demand, lacking sincerity or the confidence to pull away.
'I don't want to,' he tells me.
One hand on my waist, he lifts the other to my neck and leans down so he can kiss me. I try to push against his chest, but he's too strong. My hands meet a wall of hard, unmovable muscle.
His lips on mine begin to move, his tongue licking a path along my lips. I exhale in surprise and he takes that as permission to thrust his tongue into my mouth. His hand at my neck, quickly fists in my hair, pulling harshly.
Nothing about this kiss is gentle. It's forceful and demanding and I hate it, but I equally love it.
I want to tell him to get the hell off of me, but I also want to beg him to kiss me more.
He steps towards me until my back meets the cold metal of his car door. Pushing me against it, he bites down softly on my lip, and I taste the coppery tang of blood.
Gasping, I whimper. I'm scared by my own reaction to him. I kiss him back then, grabbing a hold of his shirt so that I can pull him closer still.
He chuckles into my mouth before beginning to pull away.
'No,' I practically cry out, abandoning the self-control that I've been clinging to.
He lifts me with surprising ease and moves me about two feet to the side so that he can open the car door.
Holding it open, he smiles down at me. I'm leaning against the back door, trying without much success to get my breath back.
'Get in,' he demands and this time I don't hesitate.
Everette:
What the hell am I playing at?
I shouldn't have kissed her. There's a human saying that fits this situation perfectly; 'don't play with your food.' I can still taste her blood on my lips, but more than that, I can still taste her saliva on my tongue.
I want to kiss her again.
The urge to bite her and my new desire to kiss her are equally compelling as I force myself to ignore the girl who is sitting beside me in the car. My hands are strained against the steering wheel as I try to focus all my attention on driving, even though it usually takes less than a fifth of my mental capacity.
She's quiet and I wonder if I should say something. Except, I don't usually talk to my food either. My ears are full of the sound of her heart pounding against her ribcage.
I'm silently chastising myself that I should have just bitten her the very first time I smelt her blood, several weeks back, instead of allowing myself to become so completely infatuated with the scent, exposing myself to it, day in and day out, for weeks on end.
I'd been scared to waste it. She smelled too good to drain in one go, but now weeks later, even the idea of spilling any of her essence feels wasteful.
When we pull up in front of her apartment block, I do my best not to look at her. I'm scared that if I look at her, I'll kiss her. If I kiss her, I'll want to do more.
I can't afford to forget that she's human.
I want to eat her, not fuck her.
'You haven't told me your name,' she says so quietly a human wouldn't hear her.
'Everette,' I tell her, my voice coming out rougher and less controlled than I'd like.
'Thank you for the lift, Everette.'
Her hand reaches for the door handle and I count to five in an attempt to stop myself from preventing her from leaving.
I watch her walk up the steps to her building before resting my head against the headrest.
Driving away a moment later is surprisingly difficult. Everything inside me feels compelled to stay by her side. I can't tell what it is that's drawing me to her, though.
Her blood? Lust? Or something else entirely?
For the first time since I first saw Farah, I decide to spend the night at home, sleeping in my own bed, for the few hours of sleep that my immortal body actually needs.
Leaving the city and Farah behind, my mind begins to clear. I speed through the country roads and arrive home much quicker than any human could.
The driveway is dark and the lights are all off when I arrive home. The large, sinister house looks like something out of a gothic novel. Farah would probably love it, thinking it the perfect setting for her favourite book.
I park up on the gravel drive and stride towards the door. It opens before I reach it and my housekeeper greets me.
'Sir,' she says, 'welcome home.'
She's human. Her family has been in my servitude for over six generations. If I wanted to, she'd let me bleed her dry. And I've never been more tempted than I am now. I'm so focused on my craving for Farah that I could lose myself to my appetite far too easily.
Instead, I remove my coat and hand it to her with a single nod of thanks, before crossing the hall and entering my study and closing the door behind me.
Once more alone, I crumple into the chair behind my desk and close my eyes.
Sybil, my housekeeper, knocks a moment or so later.
'Enter,' I say gruffly.
'You looked like you needed a drink, sir,' the middle-aged woman says as she walks towards me, carrying a tray with a single glass of red liquid.
Sybil is about as unphased by my lack of humanity as it is possible for anyone to be. She lowers the glass to my desk with a steady hand before bowing her head and turning back towards the door, not waiting to be thanked.
I down the warm blood in one go, easing my parched throat. My thirst somewhat quenched, I allow my mind to wander back to Farah.
My eyes closed, my head resting on the back of the chair, I reach down and unbutton my trousers. Pulling out my dick, I begin to work my hand up and down the shaft, imagining Farah's hand is the one touching me.
I picture her there between my legs on her knees, begging for me to fuck her mouth. The image is enticing and I feel a moan rise up in my throat. I try to keep it in. I try to control myself as my hand's movement becomes frenzied.
Imagining her mouth around my cock, I pump my fist around it one last time before coming harder than I have in a decade or perhaps more. Head pulling back, I frown.
'Don't play with your food, Everette.'