From the darker parts of my writer’s soul.
I held you to me with my left arm, hand resting on your back, between your shoulder blades. You draped my shoulders with both your arms. It was the moment before a kiss. Our bodies pressed tightly together, my arousal obvious in the way I couldn’t quite catch my breath. You moved in toward me slowly until our lips were a hair’s breadth apart. I waited with bated breath for the sweet moment our lips would find each other. It was the second they made contact, that I slid the ornately carved, business end of the dagger between your fourth and fifth ribs on your left side. You didn’t feel any pain, the blade was scalpel sharp. The tip penetrated the right ventricle; just a touch lower and I would have missed it altogether, but I’m better than that. I only miss when I want to.
Your heart continued to beat as our kiss deepened. The blood loss was hardly noticeable beneath our passion. But I felt it begin to trickle, warm as it reached my fingers and hand from the widening slash the dagger was creating. Two inches at its widest point, the blade came to rest three inches deep inside your chest, going no further due to the quillion at the base of the handle. I didn’t break the kiss, instead I pulled you closer with my left hand. You believed it represented my need for you and in some way, I suppose it did. My need to pull you tighter on the blade, my need to be sure the wound would be fatal. I thought for a moment about slowly rotating the blade but decided I loved you more than that.
Confusion registered when you opened your eyes, looking into mine which had never closed. I held your gaze as we both tasted the blood finally backing up into your mouth from your chest and lungs. Your heart wouldn’t stop beating the life from your veins. I let the salty liquid run over my tongue, then over my lips. Mingling with our saliva, it ran with ease. My blood lust had been satisfied hours before and this was not what I wanted from you.
Your knees weren’t going to hold you up much longer. They were the first of your body’s machinery to notice something was amiss, I don’t believe your heart ever did as its rhythm hadn’t slowed. Your knees folded. I eased us both to the ground, taking my lips from yours just long enough to get you situated on the floor in my arms. I leaned forward as death stole the focus from your eyes. Placing my lips over yours again, I got what I’d come for; your last breath, whispering my name into my mouth, down into my soul. No climax ever felt as sweet as the taste of your blood cooling on my lips.