Hunted Ch. 05

She lifts her head to look upon the source: A man. He is an old man, with gray hair, and a short, untrimmed, beard. He wears modest, modern, clothing. He looks so gentle, so calming, and so peaceful. Like Davik, he emits a strong aura, but its completely opposite. Where Davik had an aura of threat, this man has an aura of calm.

"Who are you?" Monica feels a rush of deja-vu.

"I think you know who I am," he smiles down at her.

Monica takes another sniff of the air around him, and suddenly she realizes why the scent is so darn familiar...

"Your...!?"

"Yes," he nodded at her.

"Then who was...?"

"A liar," his tone is so relaxing, so gentle.

"What do you want with me?" Monica is not afraid of this man in the slightest, its the opposite, she felt as though she could trust him with anything.

"I need you to deliver a message," his tone hardens a bit, but he remains as friendly as ever.

"To whom?"

"Samantha."

"But I don't where she is," Monica stammers.

"You will find her, because you have to," he explains vaguely, "because I cannot."

"What do you mean?" Monica doesn't understand his meaning.

"I used to be able to watch her," he frowns, "always. But lately, something is wrong: She is shielded from my site."

"Why?"

"I do not know, I can only guess it is the work of black magic. If she were to be standing in a rune..."

"Or have a rune drawn on her?" Monica cut him off, asking quickly.

"Yes," he agreed with her.

"She has a rune, on the back of her hand!" Monica exclaimed as she stood up onto her feet. She had seen the rune on Samantha's hand when she had been a prisoner in Darrien's coven. Apparently, the rune allowed Darrien to track her in some way. "There's a demon after her! You have to help her!"

"I know, child," he frowns, "that is why you must bring her this message."

Monica steeled herself: She had a reason to continue to exist, for now. This was important, more important than anything she had ever done in her life. If Davik had become a Demon, she had to help stop him, or else who knows how many would die... She knows this will not redeem her, but she must do it anyway.

But she can't: She can't survive much longer without blood, and she refuses to drink human blood. "I-I'll never find her in time!" she stammers.

He smiles at her, saying nothing for what seems like an eternity, then at last he speaks, "I think you will find you have more time than you think."

Just at that moment Monica realizes something horrible: It is already too late! She was so focused on the man she did not notice that the sun was just about to come up. It was much too late to get out of the sun's way: It was peeking over the horizon now, just behind the stranger.

"No!" Monica yells, as the sun pokes its head over the horizon and suddenly her vision burns. Orange light resonates before her and she squints against the brilliant light to try and see the stranger, but the light is just too bright. She feels the sun burning at her, and she knows she is going to die.

No: Not when she has found a new purpose! Not now!

White light completely overtakes her vision...

And then everything goes black...

* * *

3 Months later.

I sigh as I plop down on my bed. I stretch out against my soft, cool, sheets and I smile, contentedly. It was a long day, hard work, not that it was physically stressful, but I hate dealing with customers. People can be such morons.

I definitely miss my old job: Hunting the supernatural. But without a church to call home, I have no roof to sleep under. Sure, I would camp pretty much every night I was away from the church, but I was never away too long. I certainly wouldn't care to spend every night under the stars. Besides, I still manage to do hunting in my spare time. I suppose its more of a hobby now then a career.

I work at a pub now, as a waitress, I have to pay the bills somehow. No one is going to pay me to kill what they consider myths. I haven't been there long, only about a few weeks now. This is my third attempt at holding down a real world job. I'm just not very good at it: I'm not a people person.

I roll over and try to sleep, but my contentedness fades. I think about Darrien, my master, and I yearn for him. I still see him every week or two, and our relationship hasn't changed much.

Despite keeping me confined in his coven for so long, he lets me run free these days. Probably because he hasn't quite found a new place to call home either. He abandoned his destroyed coven and seems to be very much on the move. I can feel him roam the world all the time.

I see him often though, one night every week or two. When he yearns for me he finds me easily enough, and I can feel him approaching.

At first, I still tried to resist him. The first few times he visited me I would fight. I remember the first night, I was hunting a werewolf, I had tracked him to a forest when I realized Darrien was coming. He caught me in a clearing and I pulled my new sword on him. He wasn't as patient with me that night as he was on others though and he ducked under my first slash and grabbed me by the throat with one hand and wrestled the sword from me with the other. He locked his eyes on me before I realized what was happening and he had me hypnotized.

Oh, how I love it when he hypnotizes me: The rush of hormones pervades every cell in my body and I feel like I'm melting as he dominates my mind. He doesn't need to hypnotize me really, I would bend to his will willingly of course, and I'm sure he knows that. I'm just sure he knows I like it I bet.

That night, I felt my tense muscles relax, falling limply into his chest as the fog dropped on my thoughts. I gazed up into his magnificent glowing eyes and felt my cheeks beat as I blushed.

He gently peeled off my clothing, slowly, piece by piece, and lay me back into the grass. My skin tingled against both the cold grass and his even colder skin. We kissed, long, and passionately, and I moaned as he nibbled gently on my lip. He moved his mouth down along my neck, and I squeezed my eyes shut in anticipation of his fangs sinking their way into my artery. Instead, he teased me, kissing my neck slowly, deliberately, making every sensation count. The anticipation of him sinking those fangs into my neck nearly killed me, but he did not bite. Instead, he moved down to my breasts, running his tongue between them, then lapped it over my nipples.

A jolt of pain shot through every nerve as he took me completely by surprise and sunk his fangs into my left breast, drinking from the arteries there instead. The pain quickly faded and hot, intense pleasure instantly replaced it. I cried out loudly, my moans echoed into the night.

As he sated his blood lust, I felt his body grow warmer, my blood bringing a more human heat into his veins, and I felt his cock stiffen, pressing into my thigh, my blood pumping through it, giving it life. The feel of it throbbing against me drove my desire to new depths and I found myself running a hand down to it, grasping it gently, stroking it slowly.

That drove him mad with a new lust, and he retreated his fangs. He grabbed the back of my head gently and pulled me up into a kneeling position. He stood up and, keeping his hand firmly locked in my hair, pressed his hard member to my lips. I eagerly took it into my mouth, savouring the feel of it pushing against the back of my throat: It was my turn to suck his juices, and his turn to moan.

He released his hold on my hair as I only co-operated with him eagerly. I took his cock into my hands stroking it, enjoying the feel of its heat in my hands, then licking it. I looked up at him and smiled sensuously, and he liked that, he took my chin in his hand and rubbed it affectionately. I felt like his pet, and I know I should be offended by that, but I liked it. I took his cock into my mouth again, this time on my own accord, and sucked and lapped at it. I'm sure I still wasn't very good at giving blow-jobs just yet, but he seemed to enjoy it anyway.

When his lust for me peeked he pushed me to the ground again and entered me. Driving his cock down into my pussy quickly, his long member pushing so deeply into me. The feel of it sliding into me was almost enough to make me come right then and there, but instead I just wailed wildly with intense passion. He let me savour the feeling of him buried so deeply into me, holding it there for what felt like a blissful eternity. Then, he began to pump it in and out of me, thrusting soft and slow at first, then harder and faster gradually.

The icy grass clawed at my back as I began to bounce from the sheer force of his lustful thrusts. Warmth spread rapidly through my body, followed by an intense tingling, as I felt my orgasm approaching quickly. My legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him tighter, closer, to me, as my body began to tremble wildly of its own accord.

When at last my orgasm retreated, I collapsed back, spent, but he was not finished with me. He lifted me, pulling me close, holding me to him as he continued his relentless thrusting. And there we fucked under the moonlight for hours and hours until my stamina ran out and I passed out from exhaustion.

He lay besides me until the sun nearly came up and retreated before dawn. He always lays with me when I sleep, holding me close to him, and I feel so safe with him, so contented. Being a vampire he does not require sleep, but he lays with me anyway. Sadly, he cannot be there when the sun comes up, and so I awake alone, without him, yearning for more of his company.

I fought him a few more times, and it always ended nearly as quickly. He toyed with me sometimes, proving to me once and for all that I could not match him in a fight. So, eventually, I tried to run instead.

I do not know why I bothered doing anything besides giving in to him right away, really: I think he enjoys the hunt. Me too, I guess, I mean I don't want to fight him, I'm afraid I might actually hurt him (not likely, but still...), but I enjoy the part where he defeats me too much. My resistance excites him. He toyed with me again, that night, the first night I ran, chasing me, cutting me off at every pass, showing me that I could not outrun him either.

Eventually he caught me from behind, and I struggled meekly in his grasp as he wrapped one arm around my chest and one hand around my neck. He heaved me against a tree, pinning me to it, pulling my hair back forcefully, applying a great amount of strength, and pulling my pants and undergarments down around my ankles.

I could feel his cool breath in my ear, and I could sense his grin as he moved a hand quickly down my body, over my stomach, and began to rub at my labia. I gasped at the sudden sensation, my pussy singing in joy at his caress. He curled a finger inside me with that one hand, while his other hand grabbed at my throat, wrenching my face to the side to meet his own. He clamped his lips upon mine eagerly, and kissed me forcefully, roughly. He didn't have to toy with my lower-lips long before my juices began to run down my leg.

That was the extent of the foreplay that night as he rammed his cock into my pussy from behind. I squealed with pain and pleasure as he forced his way into me quickly. Then he pumped into me long, hard, slow strokes, each with such force that they thrust me against the tree each time he slammed into me.

He Tore at my shirt, lifting it hastily over my head, and snapping off my bra, leaving completely exposed to him. Then he continued to pump me roughly, each thrust scraping my breasts against the rough bark. The sensation teased me nipples, strangely, and they stiffened as my arousal peaked. I thrust my hands against the tree, pushing away from it to give my poor breasts a break as the pain became too much. He kept one hand locked around my throat, pulling my head back, and his other hand slapped at my ass. Each slap sent a stinging sensation all the way up my back, causing me to cry, half with pain and half with pleasure.

Eventually, warm pleasure slowly flooded through my body and my muscles instinctively relaxed. I fell back against him as he lifted my legs from the ground, spreading them wide, and continued to pump his cock into me. I hooked one arm around his neck to keep myself steady, turning my head to gasp directly into his ear.

On the cusp of my climax he stopped to sink his fangs into my neck and the sheering sensation that crashed through my body pushed me over the edge. I trembled wildly in his arms as I cummed for what felt like a seemed like a happy ever after.

I only ran a few more nights, not really wanting to get away, but running as hard as I could, lest I not provide him enough of a challenge. As soon as I felt him draw close I would start into a mad dash. I got tired of running though, and started to simply wait for him.

He had approached me curiously, wondering intently, I'm sure, whether I would fight him or suddenly run. But then grinned at me as the realization struck him. I had fully accepted him as my master now. I did want to fight, I did not want to run: I wanted to belong to him body and soul.

He had tied me up that night, as a reward as strange as that sounds. He led me to a secluded warehouse, saying not a word as we walked. He dragged me alone by one hand in complete silence, and I trembled nervously, honestly a little worried about what he had in store for me...and a little excited too.

When we arrived at the warehouse, he tied me suspended into the air, my stomach hanging over the floor, my head level with his thighs. The ropes wrapped tightly around me feet, thighs, stomach, arms, and my neck. They pulled me tightly to the ceiling, gravity arching my back. He left me like this for the longest time, examining me from every angle, savouring the sight of my helpless form.

He toyed with me for the longest time: He would gently caress me one moment, then pinch me harshly the next. Run his hands over my breasts, then squeeze my nipples to hear me cry. Brush at my ass with his finger tips, and then slap his hand upon it harshly.

Finally when he sensed I could bare no more, he tied my legs spread far apart and entered me slowly, pushing into me deeply. He Pumped me gently at first, then harder and faster as our excitement grew. He grabbed my hair forcefully and pulled my head back, arching my body back, straining every muscle in my body. My body swayed, suspended in the air, as he fucked me, pumped into me over and over.

"Darrien," I had screamed his name, and he rebuked me, instructing me only to call him master. That excited me further and he grabbed my throat as he continued to thrust into me again and again, putting most of his force into it.

We reached our orgasms simultaneously, and I collapsed against my bonds. He cut me down, but kept my arms bound, and cradled me in his arms. He drank from me very slowly that night, nibbling at different arteries amongst my body, taking only a little bit at a time. Each bite sending a wonderful wave of pleasure bordering on pain. He left me weak, my mind nearly shattered by bliss the next morning.

I suddenly realize my hand as drifted into my panties as I think fondly on our lovemaking. My fingers drenched in my own juices as I have nearly worked myself to orgasm. I'm surprised I know how to do this to myself, as I've never done it before, but I don't stop. I keep working myself to orgasm and my back arches, I lift my hips from the bed as I cry out. I throw a hand over my mouth to stifle the sounds as I fear I may wake the neighbours at this late hour.

When the waves of orgasm finally retreat I find myself collapsed on my bed, my sheets in a tussle, my nightgown all the way over my chest, exposing my breasts to the cool air, and my hand still down my panties, a finger still curled inside of me. I pant for air as I sweat, my mind recalling Darrien's eyes gazing into my soul.

How I miss him.

And then I realize: He is gone.

With a shock of sudden realization and fear I shoot out of my bed and my mind begins to race. I had been so preoccupied with my memories and I had not realized it: But I cannot feel him anymore.

Darrien's presence had been a calming reminder of his existence, and it was nice feeling him as if he there with me always. It had been such a long time since I could not feel him that his sudden absence was jarring. It feels like someone has ripped a huge hole out of my soul.

I quickly start getting dressed. I know his last location, I had felt his familiar presence, the direct effect of the rune carved into the back of my hand, what seemed like only moments ago, before my... yearnings. I don't know why he has disappeared, but I can't help but fear the worst. My plan is simply to make my way to his last known location and see if I can find some clues as to where he has gone.

This isn't the first time he disappeared, I remember the morning I had landed in Venice: He had obscured himself from me, intentionally. But its different this time, I can't put my finger on why though. I guess for one thing he was very far away from me last I felt him, whereas in Venice I was close and he has obscured himself to prevent me from finding him. That was before I had known I truly loved him, I had meant to kill him that night, before he had opened my eyes to my true self. Tonight, he had no reason to hide himself from me. Something else was wrong.

I make way out of my tiny apartment, situated in the slums of a small American town. The instant I reach the street I can sense something else...something very other. I can't describe it, really. But there is an aura, something palpable. This new instinctive feeling is so strong it makes me stop in my hasty tracks. I realize the streetlights are not lit, and thus it is very dark.

I'm being watched.

A familiar voice calls to me from the darkness of the street: "Hello Samantha, I have been looking a long time for you."

It's Davik...