Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger
Yep, the song by Daft Punk. I was just listening to it and finally I decided "Harder Better Faster Stronger describes a vampire. Let's write something." Enjoy the oneshot.
Every night, it was the same routine. My mission in the powerful coven I am a part of requires me to turn one human each night, so that our forces may multiply quickly. Changing one unsuspecting human each night is a faster method than taking time to pick and choose carefully as other covens do. The newborns who cannot stand their new life are executed if they do not kill themselves. The others work for our master loyally against the lycans for all eternity.
It's not as horrible as it sounds, after we finish our mission or job, depending our the rank in the coven, we are free to do as we please.
But our work is never over.
I am the only vampire in Dracula's coven who has a license to change mortals into our own. My supernatural ability is that of reading characters, down to the deepest fear within the darkest part of their soul. With this, I draw preternatural blood from my herculean master each night after I arise and then I travel into the city to search for the strongest of the night and bring them over.
The most colorful selections are in those loud, neon-lighted midnight clubs within the vulgar areas of the streets. I go there, usually, and I sit in a dark corner in a position where I have a clear view of every mortal.
There, in the center of the dance floor. A mortal with the most penetrating aroma to my senses. That was a sign of strength to my nose, the most intoxicating scent was usually the strongest, of will, of mind, or of physical strength. All of these abilities could be used in our ranks and against the lycans.
My heightened sight matched the scent to the mortal, a woman no older than twenty-five. She seemed healthy, not the most attractive in the room but still beautiful. She didn't seem to have physical advantage and the way she was swinging her busty body to the rhythm didn't tell me anything of her mind or will. I looked harder. Her head rocked side to side, short dark hair in braids rocking too; and her thin arms were raised into the air, surging like two reeds in a violent storm. The thinnest layer of perspiration was forming on her ebony skin. Her heels planted into the floor perfectly on time with each base sound, her hips did not flow, but jabbed violently as she lost herself into the beat of a fast-paced mix of unusual sounds and robotic voices.
Her body language told me everything. Strong in will.
I was not part of the brute force that battled lycans in a war zone, nor was I part of intelligence, nor may I spy or tap into the beast's lines or photograph underground meetings from a secret position. No, my job was to damn these mortal souls and enslave them as a part of our endless war between vampire and lycan. I was chosen by the master for my dazzling appearance, my reading ability, but more than others, my wit and skill to give mortals a false sense of security before I strike. It made for less of a fuss.
I waited until she withdrew from the rhythm and took a seat near the bar. Quickly I approached her before anyone else could. Two weak but tasteful drinks rested in my hands, one for her, one for myself although I wasn't going to drink it. I complimented her steps from before, she was flattered and gave me a splendorous smile and instead of reaching for the glass I offered her, she reached for the one closest to me. I chuckled inwardly when she suspected there was drugs in the drink I was going to offer to her, to prove her wrong a sipped a tiny bit on the glass but immediately spit it back out before my body did so in a less pleasant fashion. With or without assistance from other substances, she would be beguiled by me and succumb. I asked her to join me in a more private setting in the back, she studied me for a moment but saw no harm or wicked intent on my smooth face and more than easily accepted.
The base of the song was the only noise still pounding into our chests from the other room. She let out a luxurious sound as I pressed on the right spot with firm hands, her breaths increased as my weight pressed her into the wall behind her. Her back arched as my cold touches ran along her spine through her clothing, her breasts pressed against my hard chest and the material separating us; she didn't even notice the temperature of my skin. Yes, it was definitely will in her because intelligence or strength was not an advantage within.
She was so close to submitted completely. She only wanted one thing before I could make my move... She asked me what my name was in breathy moans as my cold lips covered her throat. "Damiano." I responded in a thick Italian voice. This only enticed her more and her temperature rose underneath my cold lips as she tossed her head back and gave me my signal.
Without another moment to waste, I found her pulse and sank my fangs into the lush beating of her ebony neck. The next moan was caught in her throat, it came out in a choked cry of pain mixed with ecstasy. My senses lit ablaze with the divine entity of her blood, the life source sang tribal chants from her African ancestors, coursed with strength from the mighty lion hunters that were her fathers, intimidated me with the sheer wild frenzied dances her people created around a large flame... Yes, yes, she was the strongest of the night, her will was unbelievable! I was lost as I sucked the blood hungrily from the wound, she cried out and clung to me, then shoved and scratched and screamed as she realized she was in danger. But I was easily more powerful than she, a hundred year old Italian brought over for his charm.
Her cries became quieter, her fighting began to subside as her body grew weaker and weaker and mine more tantalized. She began to sink as her weak knees gave way to the rest of her weight but I held her, cradled her in my thick, cold arms and we descended gently to the floor. My lips finally parted from her neck when she became completely motionless.
Now, to complete my mission. I bit into my wrist and let the immortal blood flow, from me, into her. The red droplets fell through her succulent pale lips where the gloss was smudged... Her eyes blinked when the elixir coated her throat and she was driven by the force that told her to drink from me, no matter how illicit it sounded in any other moment.
"Yes, my child... Drink. My blood will make you harder, better, faster..." Her thin ebony fingers found my wrist and she brought my flesh to her mouth to do as I commanded. "Stronger." I finished in a sensual sigh. I taking, she receiving... This endless current of satisfactions would never tire.
I drew my wrist away when she had taken enough to sustain herself; the fiery glint that ignited in her eye when she didn't want to let me go told me I had made a good choice tonight. I arose and whispered words of farewell, and was gone before she had a chance to make another movement. With my and the master's blood within her, she would know where to go, what to do...
The night grew old after I fed on another in the streets to replenish myself. Tonight was just another night, tomorrow would be the same mission as always.
"All and ever, Hour after, our work is never over."