Eleanor melts into my hands, her leg wrapped around my waist, her lips desperately seeking mine. Take it further, is what I should do.

I don't. I enjoy this, this kiss, this touch, the scent of her skin, sprayed lightly with jasmine, the way her hair, mused, her breathing ragged pants, her warmth against my cold skin.

Then I hear a sound. I freeze. Her hands are pulling me closer, lips looking for mine.

"I hear something..."

She presses a kiss to my neck. "A mouse, likely."

My eyes narrow. No. A mouse hasn't that large a presence. My body goes ridgid. Something is moving about in the dark.

My eyes dart to the window.

"I didn't see anyone," she assured me, hands dipping into my golden hair, urging me closer. I frown deeper.

"Someone is there," I tell her.

Elenor seems to be lost in lust. I wish for such blissful ignorance. But someone is here. Someone....

"Alastair?"

I turn my attention to her, smiling, brushing her cheek with the back of my hand gently.

"Yes...perhaps you're right, Eleanor. I'm just paranoid."

Her lashes flutter in the cute way, eyes hooded. I entertain the thought of keeping her this way, my lover by moonlight, her name someone else's.

I'm not very entertained.

"I'm not usually like this," she admits softly. Her senses have returned it seems, her flush fizzling out, as she shrinks from under my hold.

I step back, give her space.

She smiles, ruefully, as if telling a painful, flat joke only she understood.

Her eyes are casts away from mine in shame.

"I'm usually a better person, I like to think, than to be an adulteress."

"You're not an adulteress. You're not married quite yet."

She scoffs, pacing away. "Engagement is still marriage under the eyes of the lord."

I roll my eyes. "Do you truly believe the lord's eyes gaze so far below his throne?"

She throws me a disdainful glare, before stomping off.

"You've corrupted me!"

"Not wholly. Not yet."

"Oh you take some twisted pride in this, don't you?" She accuses me. "Two years. Two years you've known me and you decide now, now must be the time—!"

She's right, of course it's completely selfish. But I am a vampire. Creature of the night. Ruining lives for my pleasure is my kind's staple.

"I'm sorry, Eleanor. I simply could not resist any longer."

She stops. "Well...it mustn't happen again."

I eye her neck. If I were to have a little bite. Just a small one.

She turns around gathering her things. "My bed is made of satin," I start, picking up a book she'd left on the table.

"And?" She glanced back at me.

"Two years ago. I replaced them with satin sheets. I heard...satin is better for curls."

She frowns looking at my hair before shaking her head. "A spawn of the devil is what you are," she murmured, walking out not bothering to lock up behind her.

"How right you are dear," I stare at the novels cover. A woman bleeds from her neck, vampire hovering over her.

"How very right you are."

I turn it over, venturing out into the street. There is a new presence in town.

"And who might you be?" I call to the darkness.

The darkness answers.

"I'm not sure. You'll be the first to be warned when I figure it out."

My lips turn up. I put my hand into my pockets walking home. What a mysterious fellow. Probably new. He'll come to find being shrouded in my safety and darkness isn't as amusing after a few years.

At first, it's a thrill. Then it's a bore. And lastly, a chore.

When you thrive in the darkness, you find yourself begging for just a little light. A little truth. A bit of of honesty.

But for creatures like me, you find none. No absolution from a god who has condemned you.

Oh well. I find things like God and righteousness all very overrated.

No one calls a wolf evil for preying on a rabbit. It is called nature, and it is, what it is, and does what it must.

That's all.