Again, the dark laughter echoed in her head. Shit, shit, shit. She was so damn stupid, so bloody arrogant. In spite of the sunglasses she wore to lessen the risk of overstimulation to her senses, the lenses were no safeguards against the weighted stares of the people on the bus, and Tung wasn’t here acting as a buffer.
Azairah easily melted into him. It was the first time another human being had ever made her feel this way and it startled her, excited her and the selfish desires in her heart only wanted more. Her eyes closed as his lips embraced hers. Azairah kept her eyes closed, not that she could open them. The exulting, overpowering ecstasy of their first kiss that filled her core allowed her not to open her eyes but instead to stay there in his arms and let the moment soak into her. It was a rush and as he spoke against her lips, kissing between each word, he still managed a way to make her smile. "You're doing quite well for someone who hasn't kissed a woman in while so he claims," she said, not helping but to tease him as he'd teased her. "Hmm? What's this?" she spoke again through his words and affections. Azairah's dreamy eyes opened slowly. "And exactly how long have you wanted to kiss me, Kyle?" The sudden obnoxious applause pulled her back into their reality but swiftly Kyle moved with her, returning to their table. "Trust me... I know you won't betray me, love. You know what I could do if you did," she said cupping his cheek with one of her warm hands. Though before she could say anymore Kyle was on her
She repeats the words, “No! Take him away. He’s dead, I tell you! You are dead, you bastard. Dead!” She’s rocking back and forth, back and forth. Then, mimicking the Russian Captain, “Drink your warm milk, Lelkem, you must drink it so you can sleep.” Saying it over and over. But not a sound escapes from her lips. No sounds, no movement, nothing. Just a repetition of the same sentence inside of her head.
I smile at her, and cup her chin with my hand. Abigail stands on the tip of her feet, she's pretty short so I grab her by the waist and lift her up. She closes her eyes and presses her lips against mine. I hold her against me tightly as our tongues
I now stood in the empty hall. The walls were made of cold cobblestone, lined neatly forming the long hallway to the feeding room. The building, Mrs. Reed’s residence was an old castle created from stone and iron. The hallway was dark only being illuminated by infrequent sconces sitting on the walls two inches below the ceiling. There were no windows as the residents of the castle, being stalkers of the night, had an incredible aversion towards the beating rays of the sun. Before me was the feeding-room door, where the creatures that lived in the castle fed upon their provided pints of blood every evening at midnight. I stopped, intimidated and trembling. What a miserable little poltroon had fear, engendered of unjust punishment, made of
Hank stared at her. Cheek resting on the palm of his hand, he was mildly impressed by her hand/eye coordination. “So…”