Death

by L'Phantom

Death is watching me. He thinks I do not see him watching me, but I see. He thinks I do not know what he is, but I know. He thinks I do not want what he has to offer, but I want. I need.

The faint neon glow silhouettes his face, but all the neon in the world could not hide those eyes. Blue as the sea never was. And his hair; as if pure gold was spun into locks of hair by Rumplestiltskin or one of his like. He holds a glass, which I am supposed to believe contains wine, but I know better. power. His eyes capture me like a bird in a gilded cage. And just as Angelou knew why the caged bird sang, so also do I know why my heart sings out at this moment. I am captured, but freer than I have ever been. I am a slave, but master of my fate from this moment on.

My actions in these next moments will determine my destiny. Should I play these cards wrong, I lose perhaps my only chance to be one with Death, to feel his hands running through my hair. Even now, I ache for his touch, I yearn to feel his caresses, his kisses. But I cannot let him know this yet. I must play the part of the innocent until the time is right. So, I smile at him. I lick my teeth seductively as if I were trying to ensnare a mere mortal. How foolish I must look to him, playing these childish games.

But he also must play a part. He returns my smile, and I see his beautiful, white teeth. Oh, God, how I long to feel those teeth at my throat! I run a hand through my long burgundy tresses, exposing my bare neck to him for only a moment. I watch with breathless fascination as a hint of gold flares in his blue eyes. My gaze locked firmly into his, I make my way across the club, evading the dancers as gracefully as a ballerina, but I do not see them; I see only those eyes, those incredible, those magnificent, those spellbinding eyes.

He speaks for the first time, and again I feel my heart quicken. His voice is like silk, even and calm. He says that his name is Nicholas. I manage a small chuckle and stammer back that that's interesting, since my name is Nikki. He laughs and agrees, then asks me if I'm having a good time. I want to call out to him that these mind games are unnecessary; that I want him to take me; that I want to breathe my last breath in his arms.

But I cannot. So I say that I wasn't until just a few moments ago, hoping that he will catch the unspoken assertion. He closes the gap between us by half; coming so close to me that I can smell his aftershave, close enough for him to smell the blood in my veins. I can tell that he does because the gold flashes in his eyes again.

Now is the time for me to make my move. I slip my arm around his waist and ask him if he'd like to go someplace more private. He drains his "wine" and sets his empty glass on the bar. We walk out together into the brisk Toronto night. I live only a few blocks away, I tell him, and suggest that we walk. He agrees and we start down the street.

He is quiet during the walk. For a brief moment I think I made a mistake; that this is not my Death; the killer who comes to me in my dreams and delivers me the gift I desire most. But then he looks at me, into my eyes, and I see again the eyes of a man who has killed, a man who must kill to survive. He stares at me still; I blush like a stupid schoolgirl and look away. He smiles the smile of someone with lifetimes of experience, as a grandfather smiles at an infant.

I am grateful when at last we reach my apartment building. My hand is shaking as I reach out with the key toward the lock. He steadies my hand with his and my mind flutters like so many butterfly wings. The door unlocked, we step inside. I toss the keys toward my coffee table as I have countless times in the past, but this time, I feel a muscle in my shoulder complain. The pain of the cramp is enough to make me wince. My left hand reflexively jumps to my right shoulder to massage the cramp away. For an instant, I forget my guest as my thoughts are consumed by relieving the pain.

So, naturally, I jump when I feel a hand over my own. But the gentleness of his touch reminds me of everything. My left arm falls limp by my side as I allow him to ease the tension from my shoulder. He moves my hair, draping over my left shoulder, all the while rubbing my right shoulder to ease the pain.

Slowly, his hand moves from my shoulder to my neck. I feel as if bolts of electricity are shooting out of his fingers into my neck. And then... and then, oh, God, his lips touch my neck. It's everything I had hoped and more. The tip of his tongue traces a line up and down my neck. I sigh out of sheer anticipation.

He spins me around in his arms and presses his lips to my own. He pushes my lips apart with his tongue and travels beyond, wrapping his tongue around mine for a moment before moving further, exploring. My arms reach around his waist, my fingernails creeping up and down his back. He moves his sweet kiss from my lips, moving along my cheekbone. He finds my earlobe and teases it with his tongue as a cat might toy with a ball of string.

I try to speak, but no words can be formed. Instead, I only gasp and sigh as my sweet Nicholas, my killer, my Death, plunges me deeper and deeper into the depths of desire. His kiss returns to my neck, and I can feel his body tense as he fights against himself, against his killing side, against the one thing that can bring us both release.

I find my voice again as I breathlessly whisper, 'Take me... please.' I close my eyes, but I can still feel him pull his head back, hear the low growl as the beast within comes to the front. After an eternity of waiting, I feel the searing pain as my vein is punctured by his kiss of death. I scream with pleasure as I feel my life force ebb away into him. I hear our heartbeats, mine slowing, his racing, until that dark moment when they beat together like timpani belting out Beethoven's 5th.

And the weakness begins. The loss of feeling, first in the fingers and toes, but quickly overtaking my whole body. He and I are one, and I will forever be a part of him.