This is a short story I wrote several years ago that I wanted to share with my good author friend, Kristy Haigwood since we both have this undeniable love for the same man. Enjoy, Kristie.
My Everlasting Lover
Milky clouds shielded most of the stars and shrouded the quiet street in eerie darkness, save for a few streetlights casting strobilus shapes of amber here and there along the way. No lights peered out from windows where children slept snuggled in their beds, where men and women lay tangled together among mounds of sheets and comforters, where Fido curled up on his little bed snoring. My vision of a happy home.
I considered where I was. Off the strip two blocks from Hollywood and Vine where lights still glistened and people still lingered from their night of cavorting from dance club to dance club, hoping to find that special someone, most of the time, just for the night. Did anyone ever find their true love in those sorts of places? I'd tried, gave it my all, but no matter how hard I tried, how pretty I made myself, or how sexy I felt, it was always the same old story. All they ever wanted was sex. One-night-stand-sex. I'd had enough.
This night would be my last time. I was tired of the needing, the pretending to be someone I didn’t want to be. And I was getting older. At twenty-five, I'd soon lose that youthful innocence most men seemed to be attracted to—I hated all those men. The ones who thought they were God's gift to women, telling us how much they wanted us and how beautiful we were. When all they ever wanted was to get their freaking rocks off. I was done. I needed an out. I needed to find my warrior, my knight.
I'm not sure how it all happened, really. I was walking and then I wasn't. The air around me hung still and thick, like stagnant pond water and every muscle in my body froze. I was unable to move. I remember thinking, this is weird, I should I be scared?
The shadow came out of nowhere, so fast, a blur. He must have been hiding behind a car parked along the road, or an overgrown bush on someone's front yard. I didn't even see his face. My hands instinctively went to his arms to fight him off. It was no use as his large, tight arms surrounded me, it was impossible to defend myself against such a robust, muscular build. Even with years of martial arts training, I was no match for his strength. I felt the prickles of his stubbles against my skin as his teeth sunk into my neck and I had no breath or desire to scream.
While he sucked, I remember thinking. This can't be happening. Vampires aren't real. They only exist in novels, a figment of some sick writer's imagination. Then, why? Why not? The concept must come from somewhere.
He didn't kill me. That he could have done so easily. Instead, he turned me. There is something to be said of that.
When he finished sucking, he lifted his head and smiled; that quirky little curve of his lips still amuses me. My blood dripped from his lips and he slid his fingernail along his bulging pectoral muscle where blood began to trickle out. With his hand tangled in the back of my hair he tugged my face to the oozing cut.
Everything makes perfect sense now. This must be why he'd never married. My creator, my everlasting lover. I say "Ha" to all those tabloids with their silly rumors of love and relationships. A different lover every other month they claimed. It seems like every time he makes a new movie the papers are paring him up with his new co-star. Well, I know the truth.
I wondered why he took me. I don't suppose it makes any difference now. Maybe he was lonely. Maybe he was tired of all the hopeless love affairs with starlet after starlet. He could have had his pick from any one of them. But he chose me.
As I sucked his blood to heal myself, I became stronger. More powerful than any amount of weight training could possibly offer. He was like a drug, my own private drug and I began to worship him. I wanted to be a part of him, wanted to be like him, and he was giving me everything I wanted.
And now with this power inside me, his gift to me, with his drive to kill to survive I will take my revenge on all those men who never bothered to give me a second glance. All those assholes that came to my bed only to leave in the middle of the night with promises of a phone call.
And so this is my life. The way, I guess, it should be, the way it should have always been. No more visions of children and puppy dogs snuggled on their beds.
You shouldn't fret for me, though. I may be his slave by blood. But I am his lover, his companion for life. I suppose if one is to be bitten by a vampire, they could do a lot worse than someone who once played a Spartan King. Now I am twenty-five forever and belong to Gerard Butler and lucky enough to walk that same street night after night, preying on those stupid jerks who thought they were so much better.