nearer they get. Hopefully they don’t want to keep beating on me.
My hope is quickly dashed on the casket to my right, along with my now cracked pelvis. I struggle against the force of their battery, but I’m as effective as a trailer park against a tornado.
One by one they crash into me. The world spins, and I know that some of it is actually the result of my body being batted about in the air.
Kicking and swinging in a vain attempt to fight back, it becomes apparent that nothing, even escape, is a viable option now.
My body is hurled to the floor repeatedly, cracking and splintering as much wood as bone.
I can’t keep up with the damage they’re doing to me. I’m healing as fast as I can, but not quickly enough to stay fully conscious. The world begins to flicker in and out and I feel there’s a risk of my head floating away.
I’m pounded into the floor again and I begin to panic, afraid this will be the last time I’ll be able to remain aware. Then something makes an awful high pitched noise. I know it’s in the room with me; somewhere off behind me to the right. There is a blinding flash of light and I‘m wishing I hadn’t landed face down.
With all the strength I have left in me, I roll over and try to convince my eyes to focus through the pain.
I can see the shadows have fled, but I’m not alone. There he is, standing in the center of the room, outlined in red from the light of the emergency exit signs. How did he get here so fast? Why didn’t I sense his presence? How did he even know I was in trouble? Nothing is making any sense. I stare, trying to wrap my mind around what I’m seeing, and then I gasp audibly, drawing attention to myself.
His head snaps in my direction, and he takes a defensive posture. His head cocks slightly to the side and I know his face, and the motion of what he’s doing. I’ve been through it before, he’s reading me.
“Jules?” So small, my voice is hardly more than a squeak.
“Who?” His reply shakes me and leaves me ill prepared for what follows. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but there are going to be a lot more of them, and unless you really want to wait around for that, I suggest we get out of here.” He’s looking deeper into me than I’m comfortable with, but I’m powerless to stop him.
“I can see you’re weak. Here, drink.” He offers his arm outstretched. I am at once intrigued, afraid, and repulsed. Unfortunately, I am also too hungry to really ask any questions.
His flavor is unquestioningly delicious. I’m surprised and intoxicated by him. I’ve only ever tasted Jules, no other of my own kind. It’s hard to take in, feeling a bit drunk, and my head is swimming.
The sensation is like no other in the world. I can feel the warmth spreading out from my mouth, down my throat. The heat begins to engulf what was once the center for human stimulation.
I am aware of my body and am now aware of my lack of control over it. I do not have to breathe, nor does my heart beat unless I make it do so, but he’s commanded both involuntary human responses in me.
I can hear the blood rushing in my ears as my pulse quickens. I’m breathing heavily, almost panting for breath. I know this sensation, but it’s been so long since I’ve felt it.
My muscles are reacting to it of their own accord. His fluid is filling me, and my body seems more under its command than my own. I can’t help but to continue to drink as the tension in me builds.
He’s saying something but I can only hear my own heart racing. I can only feel the long absent contraction of muscles, as the tension in me grows. I am only aware of him now by the masculine odor of him. Not sweat, but an overpowering aroma of cologne, leather, and earth.
I’m fighting just to keep my eyes open, and I can’t stop the guttural moan from escaping my throat as he pours down into me, thick and searing.
He looks so much like Jules. The similarity is more than uncanny. I’ve been in his presence
My hope is quickly dashed on the casket to my right, along with my now cracked pelvis. I struggle against the force of their battery, but I’m as effective as a trailer park against a tornado.
One by one they crash into me. The world spins, and I know that some of it is actually the result of my body being batted about in the air.
Kicking and swinging in a vain attempt to fight back, it becomes apparent that nothing, even escape, is a viable option now.
My body is hurled to the floor repeatedly, cracking and splintering as much wood as bone.
I can’t keep up with the damage they’re doing to me. I’m healing as fast as I can, but not quickly enough to stay fully conscious. The world begins to flicker in and out and I feel there’s a risk of my head floating away.
I’m pounded into the floor again and I begin to panic, afraid this will be the last time I’ll be able to remain aware. Then something makes an awful high pitched noise. I know it’s in the room with me; somewhere off behind me to the right. There is a blinding flash of light and I‘m wishing I hadn’t landed face down.
With all the strength I have left in me, I roll over and try to convince my eyes to focus through the pain.
I can see the shadows have fled, but I’m not alone. There he is, standing in the center of the room, outlined in red from the light of the emergency exit signs. How did he get here so fast? Why didn’t I sense his presence? How did he even know I was in trouble? Nothing is making any sense. I stare, trying to wrap my mind around what I’m seeing, and then I gasp audibly, drawing attention to myself.
His head snaps in my direction, and he takes a defensive posture. His head cocks slightly to the side and I know his face, and the motion of what he’s doing. I’ve been through it before, he’s reading me.
“Jules?” So small, my voice is hardly more than a squeak.
“Who?” His reply shakes me and leaves me ill prepared for what follows. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but there are going to be a lot more of them, and unless you really want to wait around for that, I suggest we get out of here.” He’s looking deeper into me than I’m comfortable with, but I’m powerless to stop him.
“I can see you’re weak. Here, drink.” He offers his arm outstretched. I am at once intrigued, afraid, and repulsed. Unfortunately, I am also too hungry to really ask any questions.
His flavor is unquestioningly delicious. I’m surprised and intoxicated by him. I’ve only ever tasted Jules, no other of my own kind. It’s hard to take in, feeling a bit drunk, and my head is swimming.
The sensation is like no other in the world. I can feel the warmth spreading out from my mouth, down my throat. The heat begins to engulf what was once the center for human stimulation.
I am aware of my body and am now aware of my lack of control over it. I do not have to breathe, nor does my heart beat unless I make it do so, but he’s commanded both involuntary human responses in me.
I can hear the blood rushing in my ears as my pulse quickens. I’m breathing heavily, almost panting for breath. I know this sensation, but it’s been so long since I’ve felt it.
My muscles are reacting to it of their own accord. His fluid is filling me, and my body seems more under its command than my own. I can’t help but to continue to drink as the tension in me builds.
He’s saying something but I can only hear my own heart racing. I can only feel the long absent contraction of muscles, as the tension in me grows. I am only aware of him now by the masculine odor of him. Not sweat, but an overpowering aroma of cologne, leather, and earth.
I’m fighting just to keep my eyes open, and I can’t stop the guttural moan from escaping my throat as he pours down into me, thick and searing.
He looks so much like Jules. The similarity is more than uncanny. I’ve been in his presence
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