The Nightlife: Paris (The Nightlife Series) by Travis Luedke Page A

will do anything you ask,
anything.  Please do not ask me to hurt the boy.  I beg you, s’il vous plait, Maître ! ”  I was down on my
knees at his feet.  I stripped my clothes and bent down face to the floor,
offering myself.
    He took my offering, repeatedly.  He refused to bite me or
allow me to bite him.  He made sure it hurt, slamming me hard and fast, hitting
me.  This was a new lesson.  He didn’t like the way I catered to the
bloodslaves.  He determined to strip my soul of every last vestige of humanity.
    In the midst of it, I saw him.  Lucas watched my humiliation
from a crack in the doorway.  Nothing to do but endure, as I had always
endured.
    When he finished with me, my nose broken and bloodied,
Julian repeated his edict.  “You’ll not feed from a single person until you
feed from Lucas first.”  I wished I could kill him.
    Lucas rushed in the moment Julian left.  He cleaned the
blood from my face with a washrag, apologizing profusely.  The poor boy thought
he’d done something wrong.  He had no embarrassment around my nudity.  I
imagined he’d seen it all at the brothel.
    He spoke candidly.  “I know what you are, Madam.  I am not
afraid.  You can bite me if you like.  I trust you.  I’d rather you bite me
than watch him hurt you.”  The fool didn’t know what he was saying.
    I dressed quickly, uncomfortable with this boy staring at my
body like a man.  “You do not understand, Lucas.  I cannot hurt you.  I love
you.”  I held his wonderful warm face in my hands.  All his adoration shone
from eyes brimming with tears.
    He held me tight.  It felt so wonderful to just hold someone
who loved me unconditionally.  I could cuddle with that boy for hours on end,
and he let me.
    “I do not deserve your love.  The things I have done.  I am
a killer.”  I whispered confessions to him, as if he was a priest giving my
last rites.
    “I trust you, Michelle.  I have seen when you bite the
ladies.  It’s not so bad.  I think they like it.”  The little sneak had been
watching everything at the house.  He was excited at the prospect of being
bitten.
    “You have not seen what happens to the women.  They die,
Lucas.  I could not stand to lose you.”  I enfolded the boy in my arms, praying
to God I could be strong enough to save him from myself.
    I fell asleep with his warm body huddled close.  I knew he
worshipped me, his own personal goddess.  It was wrong, insane.  Too late.  I
needed his love so badly.  Julian gave him to me.  He was mine.
    I held out almost three whole nights without feeding.  Lucas
came to me each night, trying to comfort me, offering himself.  I ordered him
away repeatedly, but he wouldn’t listen.  The little bastard came to me in the
early morning, hand hidden behind his back, but I could smell the enticing
aroma of life in the air.  He had cut the tip of his finger.
    “Here, Michelle, you can have it.  It’s okay.  I want you to
have it.”
    Something flipped in my mind, a switch I didn’t know existed. 
All rational thought wiped away in a second.  I lived for the blood, solely for
the blood.  Nothing else mattered.  I took his offer and latched tightly onto
his thin, little neck.
    He squirmed and cried out in my squeezing embrace, and then
stilled as my venom worked its magic.  I had just enough presence of mind to
let go before I killed him.  But it was one of the hardest things I had ever done. 
I wanted to suck his body dry and shred his flesh to clean the last drops.  I
wanted to, but I didn’t.
    “ Je t’aime, Michelle.”  He proclaimed his love for me over and over and over.  I had
drugged the boy to the point he couldn’t even stand.  I carried him to bed.
    I lamented the life I had stolen from him.  I had hooked him
in one prolonged bite.  My very own bloodslave.  I cradled his body close as he
slept with a happy little boy smile.  I brushed his grimy hair off his
forehead, committing his face to