Here, from whence the victim of Lirio pranced hours before, lie dead on the sepulcher. Wan was he, not twitched nor stirred he, in his death did he remain lifeless. Crouched upon a broken tomb, Lirio had remained. Watching, smelling the air to be certain her prey was deceased.
Feeling satisfied, she rose from her sedately posture and trodded softly to return her lair. The blood stirred luminating in her veins. She was always warm after a feed. This particular creature had been unusually warm. She was attracted by the way he walked, his atmosphere had tingled her senses. The temptation was too strong to ignore. A closer gander, and ah! What a beautiful entity! To not taste his blood, not to feast upon his warm body, would have been a defilement to her soul. Temptation to quench her blood lust. Here, then, was her routine; perhaps a habit to be exact. And the perfection that stalking required was a graceful, silent dance of the dead. Beware of the Lilith Child; with the cunning smile, and wistful guile. Yea quake the earth she trods, of which make many a ground-creature stir. Extravagent is my Lilith fair. Locks of curled ebony to reach her waist, long icy fingers of death, and red-rose lips to tempt a homeless begger. To show interest is a great sin to the Phantom Mistress. If the night held such a creature, it would be she. She, the Lady of the Moon, of the darkness and of the endings of lives. Sweet nemesis to give me a blood-kiss; these are your Rose Tears. Your black heart to mine is the lust I bear for you, that I submit to you, O Queen Vampiress. Night after night I saught after the Huntress. I waited for her to sweep past the ally near the brothel, where her newest vicim abided. She craved sinful blood now. I glanced to the skies; a full moon. I had studied the Child of Darkness some time to find that full moons had a ravenous affect on her; she was a Rose in Rage for naughty mortals. She entered just as I’d creeped to the window. The man was accompanied by some companion and drunken harlots, as he too, was intoxicated. She bade the whores and companion away and commenced to speak soothingly to him, and brush his hair from his face. My skin tingled at the thought of her doing this to me. He began to speak of a woman, a lover or wife whom had deceased not long before. She listened without words, with false compassion about her semblance. In the candle light, I saw her red lips and stark white face under the hood of her black velvet cape. One strand of wavy dark hair escaped and draped the right side of her face. How I longed to touch her, her most sensitive places. Suddenly she glaced to the window, and too quickly to conceal myself but hid. When I ventured to peek past the sill, a smile slight creep her face and changed the perfect features. She’d known what I had been thinking of her. I felt my face flush with embarassment and she soon exited the brothel while I softly padded after. I let her take lead and caught up then when she entered a woods. She was about to feed when her face shot up, and I was exposed under her stealthy glare. Fury sprang her to her feet as I fled the wood. The heart inside my chest hammered violently and shortened my breath. Stopping for air I heard no noise from behind. I then felt ice fingers around my neck and my bladder screamed for the fluids to be released, the scare was so extreme. The life was cut short from my throat for only a minute. She was feeding me images I could not bare to see; images of her feeding off my sensitive parts and while doing so, driving my body into physical ecstacy. The thoughts became stronger and more sensual until I felt explosion and my body jolted. My entire frame trembeled as she murmured, almost inaudible a whisper barely above a whisper, “What is your purpose for stalking me?”