The Nightlife: Paris (The Nightlife Series) (11 page)

I embraced him, smelling the wonderful scent of his tanned
flesh.  He held me, two lost souls comforting each other in a world of death. 
He picked me up into his warm arms, and I wrapped my legs around him.  I wanted
him, as a pet, and as a man.  He held onto my thighs and carried me in his arms
as he walked.

“Got some good ole American boys over there.  They ain’t
gonna believe this shit.  No siree, Frenchy, ain’t gonna believe a word of it.”

I saw it then, at a fourth floor window at the end of the
block.  The moonlight gleamed off the shiny black barrel of a sniper rifle.  I
pulled down hard and fast, trying to get out of the way.  The shot echoed down
the street as the bullet cut through my right side and straight into the chest
of my brave pet.

We both fell to the ground.  I lay on him, gritting my teeth
and growling through the agony of my gunshot wounds.  I lay there in his arms,
mewling in pain as I listened to his heartbeat falter. 

“I’m sorry, baby …”  His heart stopped.

Burying my head in his chest, I wailed and howled in pain
and grief.  So unfair.  I had no one in this world, no one to love me, no one
to be kind and smile and stroke me with his warm hands.  I looked over my
shoulder to see the bastard Boche still there, his rifle perched on the window
sill.

Grief transmuted to rage, and I launched up.  Though it hurt
to breathe, to even move, I ran.  My rage overcame the pain.  I ran to the end
of the street in a growling blur to leap high into the air and land at his
window sill.  In two pain-filled seconds I scrabbled over the lip of the sill
and tore through his jugular vein, emptying his body of every last ounce he
could give.

A life for a life.

The only form of justice I knew.

* * * *

Chapter 16

I wandered through the village and out into the countryside,
a ship adrift at sea without sail or rudder.  I stumbled through the night, in
pain, exhausted.  My grief and injuries made me careless.  I barely noticed
when I wandered into the midst of four wolves.

Their presence startled me.  Le Loup.  France hunted them to
extinction years ago, yet here they stood, an entire pack.  Their pelts black
as a moonless night, their amber yellow eyes fixed on me.  They stood higher
than my waist, fully-grown adult wolves.  By the time I understood my
situation, they had flanked me from all sides.  Teeth bared in menace, they
slinked in a step at a time, growling.  I sensed their hunger.  They smelled
blood.

For a moment my grieving heart considered resigning myself
to this fate, allow the wolves their feast, give up the good fight.  This life
was too painful, too unfair, too lonely.  Why fight?  This was my one chance to
die.  I surely wouldn’t survive their appetites.

At the last second my feral predatory mind asserted firmly. 
You will not die
.  A killer instinct to survive filled me with the
resolve to fight to the bitter end.

I hissed, claws splayed out wide at the ready, jaw unhinged
displaying a mouthful of teeth.  They attacked with impeccable timing,
coordinated far better than any army of men, biting and gnashing in concert.  I
spun, twirled, slashed, bit, raked and clawed, a whirlwind of death lacerating
anything within reach.  It was over in minutes, three wolves downed and the
remaining bitch limped off out of striking distance, yelping in pain.  I had
bone-deep cuts and gashes.  Blood streamed down my arms and legs where they had
done their worst.

But I was still standing.

I staggered into a nearby stream, swollen by the July
rains.  Slugging forward through the water, the bottom of the stream suddenly
dropped out.  The strong grip of the current pulled me down into the black
water.

* * * *

I woke to the sound of a man whistling lightly.  My heart
skipped a beat. 
Julian? 
Maitre?
 
I lifted my head cautiously.  I was bundled in blood-soaked linen under a coarse
woolen blanket.  I lay on a cot, inside what seemed to be a cave of sorts, an
earthen dugout about thirty feet long.  A gas lamp hissed nearby, its flame
dancing in the slight breeze that wafted past the entrance to the cave.

I found the whistler just the other side of the bushes,
leaned over an open fire, cooking.  The shirtless man was a mountain, shoulders
at least three foot wide.  When he stood up he towered well over seven feet.  I
smelled the fish he cooked, but even more, this huge man with a heart as big as
my head and a massive body full of blood.  He had to weigh over three hundred
pounds, all solid muscle.

Standing in the cool night air, my nipples hardened.  I had
found my perfect pet.  Surely he could withstand regular feedings, he was
so
big
.  I stepped out from the cave completely nude.  He must have removed my
shredded dress.

I walked right up to him and slid my hand over his warm
blood-filled shoulder.  I loved the feel of all that meaty muscle flexing under
my fingers.  I almost sunk a bite into him right there, but he spoke first.

“My name is Arnaud Vasilis.  And you?”  I didn’t make a
sound.  “Well, have you nothing to say for yourself?”

He waited for my answer.  “Are you hungry?”  He glanced at
me from the corner of his eye, seemingly embarrassed by my nudity.

“
Oui.
”
 I was very hungry, but not for fish.

He tried to move away as I moved in, but I grabbed his big
meaty hand.  He turned to look at me, really look at me.  I saw the surprise in
his eyes.  He had recognized me for something more than a simple woman.  “
Tu êtes un phénomène
.” 
You
are a freak.

I answered by sliding up to his chest and running my fingers
over his bulging pecs.  His nipples contracted under my fingers.

He ran his hands over my shoulders and arms, in awe of my
smooth, unmarred skin.  No sign or evidence of my numerous injuries.  “You were
a right mess, girl.  I cannot believe you are standing here.  Looked like
somebody tried to have you for dinner.”  He had a strange accent.

Fascinated with his big, meaty muscles, I licked his breast,
and watched his nipple form a tight little pebble.  Nice and salty.

He groaned as his erection pressed against my belly. “You
are asking for something you may not be ready for.”

I smiled, a mouthful of sharp teeth.  I was ready.

He backed away, a look of alarm on his face.  I grabbed onto
his chest, wrapping my arms and legs around this trunk of warm meat.  I
couldn’t wait another second.  Climbing up his torso, I bit down on his massive
neck, and loved it.  He was so
healthy
.  His strong heart flooded my
mouth with glorious flavor.

“Hey!”

He reacted instantly, tossing me right off him.  I tumbled
into the bushes and rolled across the ground to come up in an attack crouch,
growling low.  This mountain of a man knew fear.  I watched it dart through his
aura.  He knew I was dangerous.  He turned to run.  Silly man.

I launched at him, tackling him low.  I lifted his three
hundred plus pounds off his feet, twisted mid-air, and slammed him down onto
his back.  Lying on his chest, I snapped my teeth in his face, enjoying the
flare of fear in his nostrils, the scent of his adrenaline.

He shoved me off hard with both his hands and feet. 
Airborne, I flipped around to land on all fours, hissing my challenge.

“
Dieu me
sauver
.”  He started praying to God.

I took him down again.  This time I didn’t hesitate.  I
latched onto him with all my strength and sunk into his meaty neck.  I didn’t
let go till he was bellowing with his release, his erection straining through
his pants.  I stroked his lovely muscles and spread my legs to rub my wet
center across the top of his cock.

The man was very large, in all ways.  I had to see it for
myself.

I freed his mammoth cock from his pants and held it in
hand.  My fingers could barely touch around it.

“Oh Lord, you will surely be the death of me.”  He watched
with trepidation as I held his manhood in my razor grip.

I leaned down and licked him once to taste the salty flavor
at the tip.  He started.  “It’s been too long, girl.  If you start this business
I won’t be able to stop.”

Though he was very large, I wanted all that warmth inside me. 
I stood over him, legs spread wide, and sat down onto the biggest cock I had
ever seen.  Grunting and grinding down, stretching to accommodate him, barely half
of it fit in me.  And then he moved, and I moved with him.

It was the first time a man had ever made love to me.  Not savage
sex, not the animalistic punishment I had received from Julian nightly.  He
made slow, sensual, languorous love to me.  Gliding, sliding, whispers and
caresses and kisses.  The man stole my breath and my heart with his careful
attentions.

I couldn’t get enough of him, and he couldn’t stop giving it
to me.  He had the stamina of a bull.  A perfect pet.

After a time he simply held me, stroking my back with his
strong warm hands.

“So you like that, do you?”  He spoke with a lazy smile as
he stroked my hair from my face.  “Can’t say as I have any complaints either.” 
His heart beat strong against my breasts.  “Sure would be nice to know who you
are, or even what you are.”

I smiled and bared my teeth to show him the truth.

“Perhaps it’s better I do not know.”  He had that fear in
his aura again.

How can such a man fear anything?  He was so formidable, so
strong.

“Yes.  Let us pretend you are just my woman, and I will be
your man.  I think I like that game.”

I popped my hips to dig in, still impaled.  He grabbed me
and rolled us over, settling his weight and cock firmly.  And I bit him again. 
He was a fountain of blood on my lips.  Could I ever drain a man so large?

He made love to me as if I was the only person on the
planet, as if there were no tomorrow.  And I knew he was the one, my perfect
pet.

* * * *

I became part of his life as he became all of mine.  He
liked to talk, and I liked to listen.

“The stupid Nazis drove me from my land.  I killed three of
them.  But I knew they would send more.  I had to leave.  All my cattle,
horses, my crops in the field.  It was the second season of the year.”  He
whittled away at a piece of wood with a knife as he spoke.

“
Connards
.” 
I shook my head in disgust.  I regained my speech little by little, one word
answers, then two and three words at a time.

“They are gone now, I should return to my farm.  It is still
mine.  I would take you with me.”

The Germans had been driven back farther east, and the
countryside settled into peaceful silence as the bombs and tanks chased them
towards their own land.

I grabbed his arm, shaking my head no.  Civilization would
not suit us.  We needed our privacy.  I wanted to take him to Paris, but this
place was better for us, for me.  The peace and tranquility of my life with
Arnaud affected a balm to my tortured soul.

“You are right, of course.  No one would understand what we
have.”

He read me so easily, our connection had sunk deep.  I felt
him always, his need for me.  He had an ever-present desire for my bite.  No
matter how many times I bit him, he wanted more.  It was becoming a problem
through the daylight hours.

“
Mon amie
,
I need your help.  I cannot take it anymore.  The pain is too much for me.”  He
reached out to caress my cheek, his finger slipping into my mouth to touch my
fangs.  “I need this while you sleep.”

I had no idea what to do for him.

“Look at me, a full grown man, descended from Vikings.  No
man can stand against the strength of these hands, and yet you bring me low,
woman.”

He brushed his pale blond curls out of his light blue eyes. 
A direct descendent of the Viking bloodlines in Norway, he had moved south to
France to take advantage of the extra farming season.  A man of the land.  He
had been surviving off the woods and stealing what he could from the local
villages for the entire four years of the occupation.

A true Viking raider in the flesh.  I loved him with all my
heart, but I hurt him daily.

He withdrew a syringe from his leather pouch by the fire. 
He had stolen it the night before from the nurse’s station.  He pointed at my
teeth.  “It hurts too much when you sleep.  Please help me.”

I glared at him, wondering what he had in mind.

“I need your venom.”  He held my jaw in his hand, squeezing
the gums, a look of concentration on his face.

I batted his hand away and growled.  “
Non!
”  I did not know what he
wanted, and I didn’t like it.

“Please,
ma chérie
,
I beg you to help me.”

Then I understood, and I knew I could do it.  Only for him
would I do it.  I snatched the cup off the table and unhinged my jaw, opening
wide, my teeth fully extended.  I held the cup there under my teeth, catching my
venom as it dripped down.

He shuddered to watch me.  He preferred to live with a
certain amount of denial.  He loved me as a woman and didn’t like to think of
the monster beneath my skin.  When I accumulated enough, he drew it into the
syringe and set it aside for the next day.

“
Merci
beaucoup, mon amie
.  You have saved my life.”

I couldn’t bear to look at him.  I did not save him, I simply
prolonged his condition.  In three weeks he had already lost thirty or more
pounds.

* * * *

Over two months passed as we lived our secluded, quiet
country life, oblivious to the ravages of war sweeping across Europe.  Arnaud
had lost almost a hundred pounds.  His flesh hung slack on his massive frame. 
His eyes had a sunken bruised look.  The fierce light of the Viking warrior had
dimmed to a spark in his pale blue eyes.

I no longer played wrestling games with him.  I had become
his nurse instead, tending him as his body wasted away before my eyes.  He aged
years in days, his bright blond hair taking on a greyish pallor to match his
sickly skin color.

He knew his fate, as did I.

“
Mon amie
,
I cannot do this anymore.  You have to end it.”

I shook my head.  “
Non!
 
I will not! 
Non!
”

I feared descending back into the darkness of grief and
feral madness I lived with before he came along.  I needed him for every moment
he could give.  His power of personality and endless good cheer mended the
broken pieces of my life.  I was selfish.

“You don’t know what it’s like!  So much death.  I cannot
stand to be alone again.”  I railed against him, and he held me tight with arms
so weak he could barely move.

“You have given me happiness few men have ever known.  But
it’s over now.  Gift me this last request.  Give me an honorable death.  Let me
die in your arms as a man.  If you love me you will do this!”

I ran from him, out into the night.  I considered the
coward’s way, to leave now.  If I left him he might survive.  I knew his need
would be great, and it could kill him, but if I stopped feeding from him he
might live.  I couldn’t stand to leave him, and I knew he would follow me.  If
he had to crawl all the way to Paris, he would follow me.

Not even Julian was so cruel.  He always killed the
bloodslaves before they deteriorated to this point.