Marek the Vampire (rough draft)

There’s a lot of storms in your neck of the woods. Enough that at certain times of year dams have to be raised that cut off parts of the peninsula from the rest of the world. The water rises high and boats are the only means of transportation. If you don’t have a boat, you’re kind of screwed.

The boat you own used to belong to your grandparents. In fact, most of what you own was once theirs. The house, your cookware, your dishes, the cats it all was once your grandparents’. You’re also one of the few properties remaining on the peninsula that has a well, the rest rely on a system of aqueducts and underground piping that comes from the lake. Legends have persisted that something lives in that underground labyrinth. But the peninsula had a lot of strange superstitions.

During the rainy season there isn’t much to do except stay indoors and pray your stock doesn’t deplete before the supply barge comes in. Either that or boat to the nearest town to escape; but during the rain this isn’t a good idea.

One of your cats bats at your water cup so you move it aside and swirl around a paint brush in it. “Not today,” you fuss at them. You look back at your canvas and slouch your shoulders. Nothing is working out quite the way you want it. Hell, even painting your nails was a futile effort the day before.

Your cat continues to try and swat at the water cup despite you having moved it. So you move it again. They swat a paint brush as the cup moves by, sloshing out water as well as flinging the wet brush onto the canvas and causing a smear.

Staring in disbelief at the mess you turn back to the cat who simply shows you their belly and mews sweetly.

“You think that will get you out of trouble?” You stand up, scooping up the cat with you. You toss him onto your bed where he swats around before curling up at the edge of the pillows.

“Yeah! You stay there and you think about what you’ve done.” You storm back out, avoiding your painting area as you go into the kitchen. You take out the cake Mrs. Mulligan made for you and start eating with the fork left on the tray.

You place a kettle upon the stove and just as you’re about to snack some more, there is a knock upon the door. Glancing outside, you see the rain is still a constant drizzle. Not many people go out at this, so you wonder who it could be.

Mrs. Mulligan smiles sweetly as you open the door. “I’m sorry to be a bother, but my water is on the fritz again. Could I take some of yours?” She holds up a pitcher.

You stand aside to wave her in. “You know where the kitchen is.”

She nods and shuffles in. “Thank you so much. I’m so grateful to have a neighbor with a well. What with all the troubles the city piping seems to be having lately. I think all these billowy storms we’ve been having have churned up something in the lake.” She places her pitcher under the faucet and turns the knob.

“I was kind of thinking that myself.” You glanced back out the window. “There’s been more wind than usual. All this buffeting on the water can’t be good. I know you have a filter, but has your water tasted any different?”

“I’ve had to change my filter twice this year. Lucky you. You don’t have to pay monthly maintenance fees and you don’t have to get those fancy filters every year.” She fills her pitcher then sets it aside with a huff. “Must be nice to be blessed.”

You chuckle. “I wouldn’t sya that, Mr.s Mulligan.”

Mrs. Mulligan’s constant soft smile turned back upon you and she pointed. “Your grandparents were blessed, it’s only fitting it would be passed on to you. They always got what they deserved.”

You smirked. “Like you for a neighbor?”

She giggled and shrugged. “Maybe not so blessed.” She picked her pitcher back up. “Thank you again. I’ll have to make you another cake.”

“I won’t argue with that.” You walk her back to the front door and open it for her. “Do you want me to walk that home for you?”

“No, no, I’ve got this.” She then glanced down at your welcome mat. “May want to change this though.”

You furrowed your brow. “How come?”

“Welcome mats invite all sorts of trouble, you know?” She chuckled. “I’d get one that was quite plain if I were you. The wrong things may take it as an invitation.”

“That’s superstition, I don’t see any harm in having a cute welcome mat. I think we could all use a bit more color these days.”

Mrs. Mulligan shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Your welcome mat was just one of the weird things Mrs. Mulligan chose to comment on. Then again, she had been here longer than your grandparents, so everything she said she had been taught since she was in the womb. Welcome mats, wind chimes made of shell, and certain color of candles were all superstitious fairy tales on the peninsula. You were lucky Mrs. Mulligan had taught you some (the shell wind chimes did attract more bugs for some weird reason), but mostly you enjoyed the stories.

The welcome mat one was based on something long ago, about a man who came into homes and would steal heirlooms. Most people didn’t lock their doors back then, so any house that had a welcome mat with writing he would take as an open invitation. At least, that’s one story for it.

Back inside your kettle was whistling, so you tended to that. You made your tea and stood at the counter continuing to eat cake until it steeped to your taste. The rain started coming down harder and that blustery wind tagged along with the deluge.

Your cats had all gone into hiding, opting for warmer and cozier places than their usual roots on the windowsills. You sat back down behind the easel with your warm cup of tea to examine the damage your cat had done. The water had made the paint run, and the big splatter point had oxidized. You sipped your tea then let out a heavy sigh.

“Guess I’ll let it dry.” You stood back up and left the room entirely. You went back to your bedroom where some of the cats had congregated on your bed. You turned on music and sat down, grabbing a book from the shelf to read.

Sometime later you woke up with the book on your chest. You were used to loud sounds during the storms, so hearing something banging about didn’t startle you right away. You stood up and waddled back to the bookshelf to put the book away. The sound continued, and the more it did your half awake brain put it together the sound was coming from inside.

With the book still in hand you peered out your door. The room was dark but you could see your front door was wide open and banging with the wind. You stepped out further, looking around for any signs of movement in your home. It was odd, but you thought to yourself you mustn't have closed it fully when you saw Mrs. Mulligan out.

You slowly and cautiously went through the house, looking around to make sure nothing was there. You hurried to the door after a few moments, shutting it and standing in a rather deep puddle.

“Dammit,” you scoffed. “Now I have to clean this up. Peachy.” You went towards the bathroom, opening it up and turning on a light.

There stood a figure there in the bathroom with one of your towels around their head. They turned and you chucked the book as hard as you could. You then slammed the door shut and put a kitchen chair under the handle. The door shook and the person inside banged upon it.

“What the fuck! What the fuck!” You paced back and forth in front of the door as it rattled. “What are you doing in my house?” You yelled.

The bathroom door stopped moving and there was a silence in the house again. You stood there staring, waiting, maybe thinking it was your half asleep brain playing tricks on you.

“Your doormat-”

“No!” You went back towards the front door, going through the puddle to open it and pick up the soaked doormat from the stoop. You then chucked it away and watched it get tousled by the wind until it hit against a tree. Why this was your first reaction, you didn’t know.

You stormed back to the bathroom where the door was rattling again. “What do you want?”

The person inside huffed. “Let me out. If I have the wrong house-”

“I am not falling for that.” You started pacing again.

“I got swept in by the rain. My house was flooded.”

You glared at the doorway. “There’s no houses around this town for miles. The peninsula floods horribly. If you lived near here you’d know that.”

“Not everyone knows everything,” he scoffed.

You stomped your foot, unsure what it would do but your panic made you do it. “Seriously, what are you doing here?”

“Drying off.”

You peered back into the kitchen wondering if you should grab a knife or the cast iron skillet. “You’re lucky the phone lines are down or I’d be contacting the police right now. So for now you’re in a stalemate.”

“I’m locked in a bathroom.”

“My doormat was not an invitation! What makes you think that it was?”

He was silent.

You crossed your arms against your chest. “Anyone who builds a house on this peninsula would have to be that stupid.” Something was moving under the door. It squirmed and wriggled, eventually poking itself out. A white bat rose up from the crack and started to fly.

You screamed and ran into the kitchen as the large white bat began flapping its wings. You grabbed the skillet from the stove and swung, hitting the bat into the wall with a dull clang. The white bat laid there, flopped over with it’s wings curled in an awkward position.

You stood over it, watching it carefully with the iron skillet clutched tightly in your hand. The bat’s form became blurry, evaporating and turning into a thick, dull fog. The fog spread out along the floor, growing and growing. You jumped away from it, looking away briefly. But when you looked back there was a man on the floor.

“Oh fuck,” you whispered.

The man laid still, so you snuck up beside him. He was wearing clothes that looked molded and ancient. There was a faint whiff of mildew from him, nothing new from a town that was constantly wet. He had long, pure white hair that covered most of his face. But that was the least strange thing about it. He was quite massive, very tall with long limbs that took up most of the hallway. His skin was pearl pale, and he had long dark fingernails that looked more like claws.

One of your cats meowed and came trotting excitedly up the hallway. You tried to shoo them off but they walked up beside the man and snuggled up to him.

“That is not a cozy spot! Get! Get!” You tried waving them off, but it only made the cat snuggle down more and pur louder.

“Oh come on,” you huffed.

The man jerked, snarling into the floor then placing a palm down to lift himself up. The cat fussed and ran off, horribly offended.

He said something under his breath, and possibly in another language. Blood red eyes turned about you and he clutched his hand around his head.

“Stay back!” You thrusted the skillet out in front of you.

The man reached out, grasping the skillet and bending it breaking it within his fist. You wrenched it back and gaped in fear.

“That was my granny’s.”

He glared at you. “Be quiet. I was sick before but now I feel worse.”

“You broke into my house!” You snapped “You expect me to welcome you in so easily? Especially after you turned into a bat? What the fuck are-”

He coughed and a thick black liquid spilled over his bright white skin. You flinched, stepping backwards at the sight. He looked up at you, those red eyes shining in the dark.

“I need your help,” he wheezed.

You watched him closely, seeing there was more than just his odd appearance to take in. His body seemed shriveled, his skin pulled tight and sagging at the same time. The slightest movement would tear his clothes. Or perhaps they were just decaying quickly. His hair, although long, was thin and you could see patches of his scalp.

“That’s what it looks like,” you murmured.

He clutched his hand over his chest. “My name is Marek,” he said with labored breath. “ I’m looking for Elisa. Is she here?”

You lowered the gnarled skillet down. “That was my grandmother.”

Marek’s eyes raised again. “Was?” There was a look of fear upon his face, one that tightened some of the sagging skin and showed the hollows of his eyes.

You furrowed your brow, keeping an even closer eye upon him. He looked shocked. “How did you know her?”

“She saved me once.” Marek shifted and more of his clothing deteriorated. “She said she would always leave a welcome for my return.”

You frowned. “I’m her granddaughter.”

“It has been a while, I see.” Marek coughed and hacked again, spewing more of that black slime onto his arm.

You stepped around him, moving the chair from the door and stepped inside. You picked up the towel from the floor and offered it back to him. “How did she help you?”

Marek took the towel and cleaned himself off then wrapped it around his shoulders. “Last time my home flooded she let me stay here. She protected me.”

“A guy like you needs protection?”

He scoffed. “From sunlight, from the water.” He choked and coughed, rattling his bones from the sounds of it.

“Where’s your home?”

“Underground,” he rasped. “Beyond the pipes.” His body sank backwards, looking bother longer and somehow smaller than before.

Your eyes widened, this couldn’t be happening. All the stories, all the silly superstitions that you had brushed off. Was this man, this creature, proving all of them?

You swallowed and stiffened your shoulders. “So what are you?”

His red eyes cut to you. “A monster, let’s just say. But your grandmother still took pity on me.”

You lifted up the destroyed skillet. “Just because she did, I should?”

Marek leaned back against the wall and breathed deeply, his body still rattling. “I just need your basement. You won’t have to deal with me much at all. Especially while I heal.”

You bit down on your lip. “I need better proof you knew her.”

He pushed aside his hair, letting out a long beleaguered breath that sunk his chest. “You look just like her. Same hair, same body.”

“More than that.”

Marek rolled his eyes. “She used to say silly things. Little sayings and stuff she seemed to make up. Sunflowers try so hard because the rose’s beauty won’t work? Something like that.”

“Yeah…she said that a lot.” You knelt down in front of Marek. “What was her favorite herb to grow then?”

Marek looked you up and down then turned his head away. “She grew fucking cilantro everywhere. The smell used to bother me.”

“You can go into the basement. But I’m going to keep it locked.”

He scoffed. “Fine.” He stood with some effort, nearly falling as he stood his complete height. “I just need to rest anyways.”

You opened the basement door, watching him go down the stairs before you closed it behind you. You fastened the deadbolt; now realizing why the basement door had one. You shoved the towel under the door, blocking the space between.

Going back into the kitchen you put a kettle on the stove to make yourself a cup of tea. There was no way you were going to sleep now. Not while there was a vampire in your basement.

When your grandfather died, your grandmother knew she wouldn’t be long without him. During that time waiting, she filled notebooks with detailed instructions about how to garden each season, even with all the rain. They were extremely meticulous and well put together. She left no question unanswered. All except for why there was a vampire now residing in the basement.

All her notes on how to raise tomatoes during the heavy rains and not one mention that a vampire might return to borrow the basement? It seemed unlikely. While the rain was still pouring, you went into the attic where the notebooks were stored in special filing cabinets. Surely she hadn’t forgotten such an event in her life, she took note of everything. The notebooks weren’t just rules for gardening, but anecdotes and familial tall tales. Maybe, because there were so many books, you hadn’t noticed one detailing vampire upkeep and maintenance.

You searched through the notebooks, pulling each and everyone out of the filing cabinet drawers. Each was labeled, color coded, some were even decorated, but none said anything about vampires.

“Come on Granny, you must have left something. Even a post it note would help me feel less crazy.” You grumbled to yourself as you sat there scanning notebook pages.

One of your cats climbed up into the attic, happily making their way into the open filing cabinet drawer. They rustled around inside, sliding on the smooth metal and purring. You then heard them swatting at paper.

“Hey, don’t mess with those.” Looking back, you saw them lying on their side and swinging at something above. “What’re you doing?”

The cat swatted and batted more until a piece of paper hung down. You reached inside you felt another notebook taped to the drawer above it.

“Please don’t be a manual. Please don’t be a manual.” You pulled down the notebook, dislodging the tape and freeing it. It was another notebook just like the others with your name written on the front.

“Oh thank goodness.” You opened the notebook to find a note for you inside.

“To my dear granddaughter. I didn’t want anyone else to find this notebook, but I figured at some point you would. What I’m about to say may be unbelievable, but I trust you will believe me. That is why I hid it. I didn’t want the family finding this and thinking I went senile. But anyways, I need to tell you about my friend, Marek.”

“Granny, what did you do?” You whispered.

“Right when I was getting ready to marry your grandfather the peninsula witnessed the worst storm it had ever seen. Your grandfather was stranded outside for a few months while I was trapped in town. All sorts of things got washed up, including Marek.”

You heard your cats downstairs yowling. The cat in the filing cabinet jumped out and went downstairs to inspect. You closed the notebook and followed to find them all congrgated at the basement door.

“No! There’s a vampire down there. He will eat you.”

Your cats didn’t care. Since when did they ever? They continued yowling and pawing at the basement door like there was a can of tuna behind it.

“I said no!” You tried shooing them away, but they evaded you and went right back to begging to be let downstairs.

You huffed and went to finish reading the notebook. “I know he’s a funny fellow, and if he ever returns I’m sure he’ll look as strange as when I met him. But he’s a shy thing and doesn’t get out often. Stories around town talk about all sorts of monsters and spirits living in the underground. Really, it’s mostly him, and he was here long before their construction.”

The cats were still whining to go downstairs. They had even pulled up the towel you used to block the crack.

“Stop that!” You fussed at them, taking the towel back. You tried to shove it back under but the cats had jammed their paws under and stopped you.

“Ya’ll have death wishes.” You sat back down, deciding to let them have at it for a while.

“Marek was separated from his family long ago, but he can’t cross the waters of the lake. That’s why he lives underground, waiting for the day the lake recedes. He really doesn’t mean any harm, and as long as you follow these instructions, he’ll be a wonderful house guest.”

“Granny are you joking?” You whispered as you turned the page.

“First and foremost, Marek needs his rest. If his home has been flooded then that means the water has weakened him as well as taken away his main source of food. He’ll need to sleep for a while to build his strength up. So don’t bother him and he won’t be noticed until then.”

You sighed heavily , deciding to close the book for now. You rubbed your temples then got up to start your day. A shower, you thought, might help. Considering the scare you suffered that night you were a bit shaky and out of sorts.

As you got out of the shower you saw your cat run down the hall with a spider in its mouth. You followed it back to the basement door where the cat released the spider into the basement.

“It’s cats. Ignore them,” you muttered to yourself.

That evening you blocked your door, just in case. Falling asleep out of pure exhaustion more than anything else.

The next few days were tentative as you tried to go about your business. But it was hard to focus since there was a stranger sleeping in your basement. Not only that, but your cats kept catching all sorts of bugs and spiders in the house and taking them to the locked basement door.

Finally, one evening just when you were growing some level of comfort with the idea of Marek being there; he knocked on the basement door. The cats were all gathered there, excitedly awaiting and swatting under the door.

You stood there for a moment, remembering your grandmother's second rule. “He’ll come out eventually. Make him feel at home. Give him something to wear as his clothes may not have made the journey.”

You clutched a bag of clothes you had gotten from mrs. Mulligan in your hands. “Who is it?” Your voice cracked.

Marek sighed. “Really?”

“Look, I’m not used to this.” You unbolted the door and shoved the bag of clothes through. “It’s clothes.”

Your cats forced themselves into the crack of the door, meowing loudly as they greeted Marek.

He took the bag from your hand and you heard him descend the stairs. Your cats followed him, and you weren’t sure how you felt about that.

A few minutes later, Marek reappeared dressed in the clothes from Mrs. Mulligan. You had told her you were dressing a scarecrow, so she gave you some of her husband’s old things. He was tall and stocky, but Marek was bigger still. The clothes just barely fit.

He looked much better than your first meeting. His hair was fuller, her skin less sunken, his bones less noticeable.

“Wish I looked that good after a nap,” you murmured.

He cut his red eyes at you and you avoided his gaze.

Your cats crowded around him, rubbing up against his ankles and jumping up to be pet. He dipped down, scooping them up in his arms. Fear clenched your belly and you jumped up to react.

“Don’t!” You yelped.

He looked at you, stroking heads and turning them into purring machines. “Don’t what?” he growled.

You reciled a bit. “Eat…them?”

“I don’t eat cats. They taste terrible.” Marek shook his head as he turned away from you. “Besides, if it weren’t for them, I would have been asleep for much longer.”

You frowned. “You mean the bugs?”

“Humans eat worse things,” he retorted. You walked over to the window, looking out into the darkness. “It’s still raining, I see.”

How he could see through pitch blackness was his own business, you thought.

“I won’t be able to return home until the dams go down.” He turned slightly to look back at you while yours cats lounged happily in his arms.

“I sort of figured.” You looked down at your grandmother’s notebook. “Is there something wrong with the water? I know it can get kind of gross.”

Marek scoffed, turning away from the window. “Long ago a holy man blessed the kae, ever since it’s been nothing but holy water. I’ve been trapped on this peninsula ever since.”

“You know a peninsula isn’t an island right? You can walk off it.”

He sighed. “I’m usually not aware of when the rainy season ends. For my sake, I stay underground.”

You wanted to giggle but held yourself back. “Well, I found a letter my grandmother left me. You’re free to stay here until you can go home.”

Marek’s eyes fell upon the notebook. “How long has she been gone?”

You pouted and looked down. “A few years.”

“I am sorry for your loss.” His voice was deep and smooth then, he sounded genuine. “She was an interesting woman.”

You nodded. “She was.”

Marek set the cats down on the table and they hopped down to the floor. “I just wanted to let you know I will not be a bother. But if you have any books to spare, I wouldn’t mind them.”

“Sure.” You stood up and motioned into the living room where there were filled shelves and stacks upon the floor. “Take your pick.”

Marek’s eyes floated about the room as he took in the scene. “Much more than the last time I was here.” He stepped into the room and carefully selected a shelf.

“Well, it’s my collection plus my grandparents’, and I keep adding to it. So…”

Marek picked up a book and looked it over. He stood about eye level with the top shelf, which you needed the tallest step stool to get to.

“So, is this just it?” You asked.

Marek held a book open in his palm. “What is?”

Flapping your arms out you weren’t sure how you could make it any clearer. “You in my home. Just existing like it’s not supposed to be the weirdest thing in the world.”

“There are weirder things in this world than me.” Marek turned to look, those ruby red eyes boring into you. His long hair draped from his shoulder then slowly slipped away and fell along his back. “Existing is all we can do sometimes.”

You crossed your arms against your chest. “That doesn’t comfort me much. But I guess you’re right,” you huffed.

You watched him select a book off the shelf and sighed. “That one is really good.”

“Is it?” he turned it around in his hand. “What is it?”

“A wizard and this cursed girl, anyway I describe it, it will sound silly. But it’s really good. It’s one of my favorites.” You scratched your neck out of nervousness.

Marek took the book and nodded. “If there are any others, lay them aside. I don’t often get new literature.” He took the book and a couple of others. “I’ll be in the basement.”

“I'll be here,” you said unsurely. Marek went back down the stairs with your cats trailing along behind him.

“Traitors,” you grumbled.

That evening you woke from slumber, rubbing your eyes as the sound of thunder echoed outside. You got out of bed to get a cup of water, and in the dim light that shone through the windows, you saw Marek standing before the kitchen window.

You cussed and continued towards the sink. “You scared me.”

“I suppose I would.” Marek kept his focus on the outside. “Can’t sleep?”

You filled a glass with water and chugged it. “Apparently I sensed a stranger in my house before I realized it. What’re you doing up here?”

Marek’s back stiffened and his chest puffed out. “I don’t have windows back home. It’s nice to watch.”

You sat down at the kitchen table behind him. “Must be lonely.”

Marek didn’t speak.

You slid the instruction notebook from your grandmother across the table and smoothed your palm across the cover. “You said you were separated from your family.”

Marek still didn’t say anything.

“I miss my grandmother a lot,” you murmured. “I sort of get what that’s like.”

“You understand it entirely.” Marek turned away from the window. His chest was bare and the light from outside reflected in the pearly white curls that covered his chest.

You averted your eyes, feeling the blush coming on. “Are they…long gone or…”

He shook his head. “I figured they would have come back for me by now. So I’m not sure.” Marek sat at the table with you and one of your cats jumped up onto the table top and plopped down between the two of you. Marek’s long hand reached out, stroking the soft fur and scratching under the cat’s chin.

“The not knowing would kill me,” you replied.

Marek sighed and his hand stilled. “It nearly has. It’s why I stay underground. I don’t need to do anything down there.”

You decided it might be best to change the subject. “So why would a priest want to bless the lake?”

Marek chuckled and his fingers continued moving on the cat. “The peninsula used to be home to all sorts. Not just my family, but lots of others. The priest thought he was doing a service, but really, he only caused an issue for my family and I. No one else here was really affected.”

You arched a brow. “How so?”

“If one religion worked then they all would. The only reason his blessing of the lake affected my family was because he named it a house of god. And without being invited into a house, we cannot go in.” He smirked. “Ridiculous rule, isn’t it? But the others who are here, witches and werewolves, they still thrive.”

Every hair on your body prickled. “Witches and werewolves? Here?”

“Generations of them. Anyone who has generational roots here, you can be sure they’re one or the other.”

You sat back in your seat. “Oh wow.”

“Monsters aren’t always the unknown,” Marek sighed. “More than likely, it’s the people you know.”

“I get that. I’m just shocked I’m only just now realizing Mrs. Mulligan might be a witch,” you chuckled.

Marek smirked. “Open your eyes a bit more. You’ll be surprised at what you see.”

From then on, you awoke each night when Marek was about in the house. You would talk, and you realized why your grandmother liked him so much. Despite being someone who hid away underground, he still knew quite a lot. While you weren’t sure of how old he was, he knew much of the old world.

You looked forward to your nightly conversations with Marek more and more. And as time went on, you could tell there was a relief to Marek. His body seemed less tight, his expression less hollow. There was a brightness to him he didn’t carry before.

“Will you go back to your home once this rain is over for the season?” You asked one evening.

Marek looked away in thought. He pursed his lips and tapped his chin as his eyes unfocused.

“I don’t mind if you want to stay here,” you added in.

His eyes went back to you. The deep ruby red had become more of a rich garnet color. The ruby had been so vivid and frightening, but this new color was much more soulful and inviting.

You shrugged as he looked your way. “I mean. I don’t use the basement at all. And my cats really seem to like you.”

“I thought it was weird to exist with a vampire in your home,” he said with a smirk.

You bit down on your lip. “There are weirder things.”

Marek chuckled and he nodded. He gazed back out the window and at the rain pattering on the street. “I’m still confused as to why you would ask. It seems sudden.”

“Does it?”

Marek turned himself around at the table to fully face you. “I am a vampire, you do realize that. I’ve stayed underground, feeding on vermin. Your basement can only provide me so much.”

You placed your hands in your lap. “How much blood would you need?”

His brows raised. “Why do you ask?”

You faded back a bit, realizing you had talked yourself into a corner.

“Out with it. I know you brought it up for a reason.” Marek leaned upon his elbows. “Are you suggesting I could feed on you?”

“Well,” you winced.

Marek’s smirk turned into a soft smile. “You don’t know what being fed upon is like. If you understood, I wonder if you’d still consider the offer.”

Your eyes flicked back up to him. “Well, no. I don’t but-” You cupped your hand around the side of your neck. “It can’t be too bad, can it?”

“It can be. But consensual feedings can be quite pleasant.”

Your cheeks warmed. “I mean…if you…” You gulped. “Just once to see. I dunno. Maybe, if you wanted to. I know I’m not everyone’s cup of tea so-”

Marek smiled down upon the table. “Do you want me to feed from you?  To be quite honest I have thought of it.”

You weren’t sure if that was good or bad.

“But I wouldn’t dare ask. Because feeding from a person you care about is considered to be an almost erotic act.”

Your cheeks really went into full bloom then. “Oh!”

Marek’s eyes went distant and he rapped his fingers upon the table. “Unless you're serious, it might be best to hold off on that.”

There was a long awkward silence after that only punctuated by the purring of your cats. You lifted your eyes, looking towards marek posed in the chair. You felt a ripple of curiosity and wondered just what erotic meant to him. You slowly sat up in your chair, stretching your legs out a bit and lifting your chin.

“It’s probably been a while for you, hasn’t it?”

His brows raised. “For what?”

You nervously darted your eyes around. “What you just said.”

His smirk returned. “Feeding or sex?”

Your throat closed up and you laughed from nerves. “I don’t know. Both?”

Marek nodded. “Both.” He stood up from the table and offered you his hand. “If you want to try, then try.”

You took hold of his hand, feeling the excitement bubble up more than nerves. Marek led you to the bathroom and he turned on the shower.

You looked on in surprise, which Marek caught.

“It can get messy at first. And I don’t want to ruin your sheets just yet.” He unbuttoned his pants and you shyly looked away.

“Oh come now. You’re a big girl aren’t you?” You heard his pants his the floor. “Surely you’ve seen a creature or two naked.”

“I have, but give a big girl a minute to adjust.” You peeked from the corner of your eye, seeing a lot of something but not lingering. You turned around, undoing the ties of your pajamas when Marek stepped into the shower.

You took a breath and removed your clothes, going up the shower where you could see the foggy outline of Marek standing under the shower, wetting his hair. He was taller than the shower curtain, and the faucet, so he had to duck a bit. When he rose back up he looked over at you.

“Pretty as a picture.” He pulled back the shower curtain. “Hop in.”

With some trepidation you stepped inside. You had gotten used to Marek towering over you, but somehow the shower made it more apparent. He moved you under the water, and the warmth of it rained down upon you.

Marek took your hair and gathered it all to one side. His hand cupped around your neck from behind. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Does it hurt?”

“Not if I do it right.” Marek knelt down behind you and you closed your eyes.

His lips brushed against your skin, and a cold breath mingled with the heat from the water. A low growl echoed in your ears as something hard hit against your skin. There was a pinching and then  a stinging sensation, but after a few moments it was nothing but warmth. There was a soft rush, a tingle, and Marek’s arms wrapped tight around you. The warmth grew and grew, and the closer your bodies became the more intense it was.

Looking down there were a couple of spots of blood that hit the ground then washed away with the shower. Marek pulled back with a grunt and his heavy breathing throbbed inside your mind.

“Is that it?” Your voice came out softer than you intended.

Marek licked your neck. “Do you want more?”

You nodded, waiting for another bite. Instead his fingers slipped between your thighs. He pressed through the chub, finding a warm softness that made a deep, dark growl vibrate against your skin. You whimpered as his fingers went deeper, finding a velvety wetness that dripped as his fingers opened you.

Marek snarled again, pressing closer to your as his fingers swirled, eliciting more heat, building the intensity. He bit your shoulder and you cried out loudly, hoping a storm would come to drown out the sound of your voice.

More blood splattered onto the ground and Marek licked where he bit. He lifted you up, holding you in his arms and pressed your back into the wall. His eyes were illuminated, and his face was pulled tight as his full mouth opened, unhinging  towards his ears. His tongue lapped around his teeth, and he leaned in to kiss you. You moaned against his lips, grasping hold of him as he pressed himself closer.

It happened so fast, and all from a bite. Your body had never responded this way before. You felt desperate, desirable, and deadly, which should have been him if you were honest. His body felt hard and a bit cold, but the warm water helped.

Marek pressed in closer so he was between your thighs. You could feel him, many inches of him actually. He chuckled softly, licking your lips with that long tongue of his.

“Why’d you stop?” You whispered.

“Just to make sure.” He kissed you again, his body moving, adjusting, and then…there he was. You held your breath as you took him, gasping slightly when he first slipped into place. Marek’s smile grew and his grunts turned into a deep, guttural sound.

You clung to him, trying to breathe even as his movements knocked them from you. He felt so deep inside, that while, yes, it had been a while for you, this felt almost like a first time. You hugged your thighs around his waist and he pulsed harder, faster.

Marek moaned into your ear then dipped his head down and bit again. There was no pain this time, only that rush of tingling heat.

The sound of your cat meowing pulled you from your dreams. The room was dark, but you could hear rain and some voices from outside. Your legs felt strange, and there was a slight ache between your thighs. You didn’t moe from bed, just sunk deeper into it.

“Don’t wake up just yet.” Marek murmured from beside you. “You need your rest.”

You smiled softly. “I feel it.” You rolled up and saw his eyes glowing in the dark. “How often can we do that?”

Marek chuckled. “Don’t get greedy yet. Let’s see how you handle this first.” He kissed your cheek softly. “This rainy season is going to be a long one.”