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Embracing Cold Death

Categories Fantasy, Consensual Sex, Gothic, Hardcore

Author: A2O

Published: 29 January 2019

  • Font:

Hi there, long time no see.

What follows is a dark fantasy medieval tale that may be a little too harsh for sensitive people at some parts.

But I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

(If you do, leave me a comment with your thoughts about it.)

*That may contain some grammatical errors, since I'm not an native English speaker - more of a self-taught trying to look good out here. Point me out what you find if you please. Thank you.*

**This text is subject to copyright protection and has been registered in more than one language. Copy - partial or total - and sharing out of this site is forbidden without the author's permission.**

******

Embracing Cold Death

By the Window and the Torchlight

As I ran up the stairs, choosing carefully my steps not to produce any sound, I could hear the metallic clashing of blades filling the air downstairs. Here, only silence. My group of the most skilled assassins was still assaulting the main corridor of the castle’s upper level, defeating the last guards that uselessly still defended the royal chamber.

Our work there was done already and I had King Leandrus the Fourth's blood all over my right hand, as it spilled and dripped from the hilt of my curved blade when I trespassed his head from his chin up. The queen and four of his sons and daughters had the same fate by the hands of my men, easily taken, one by one, when we hit the wine stenching chamber, where they gathered to keep celebrating after they left the street festival. Now it was a death place, with blood all over the floor. I just needed the fight to stay there while I worked elsewhere, so they kept attracting the guards of the surroundings, letting the metal clang so they would be heard.

Our mission was almost over.

Only two still to go: Theolus, the Second Son and Moraine, the Half-bred.

Theolus, reports said, was the only son Leandrus had that actually knew how to defend himself or knew something about military. I expected him to show up at the royal chamber eventually, so I left my every men there. I could handle a princess and her guards by myself with ease.

Moraine was the bastard daughter known to live isolated at an annex tower by the queen's demand. Fruit of an affair the king had on a year’s long expedition to the fiery desertic lands southwest, stories told her to be a dark skinned midget, hard to the eye, therefore kept in secret. Apparently, it was harder for the queen to accept being cheated on when the king's target of sexual desire could produce such hideous creature, seeing that there were other bastard children that did not receive the same treatment and lived normally at the court.

The order our suzerain gave us was to kill them all, using the knowledge that King Leandrus was more of a sociopath and less of a strategist in our favor. The poor idiot kept his entire royal bloodline stuck to his court and under his wing, living at his same quarters. It would be a good strategy, if you were certain that they were protected there, which was not the case. One of our elders once said, "A free and happy kingdom is always a place for insecurity." He was right. Troops advancing on other lands aiming to enlarge his territory, enslave and loot, all in name of great and noble Caestyria, while the reign itself was so convinced that nothing could hit them that, here we were.

With the right people for the job - mine - it was just a matter of using a festival, as they had many, as an excuse to be as close as possible to the castle at night, kill a guard or two, infiltrate the place and wait for the right time. King Leandrus had a top-notch army at the battlefield, at his borders, but that made his kingdom nothing but a nut; tricky shell on the outside but soft and easy to handle on the inside.

The word around was that Leandrus was somewhat crazy, an abuser, a good king only to his servants but a tyrant to his own court, full of himself and nothing but a fool. Not that any of that mattered to me. I had my orders; I had my village to maintain and to lead. That job would buy my soldiers, my elders, my peasants and me some peace for the months to come; the whole winter would pass unnoticed.

The large ladder to the annex tower was made turning left on its way up. The outer walls had thin and tall windows at every quarter circle and each seemed to face a cardinal direction. Although it was a thoughtful construction, now they were covered by bricks, turned into windows to another wall, I wouldn't know if on purpose or if it just happened that they covered them up with stone on the outside when they expanded this wing of the castle. The thing was, now they were weird. Moreover, useless. Mainly they represented what my thoughts were about the king's court, something to watch, merely decorative and of absolutely no use. I had no problem killing members of a court. The higher, the better.

It was amidst that train of thought that I heard light steps on their way down the stairs.

I took a moment figuring how close it was and, by the speed, whoever it was had no idea of what was happening downstairs or had a good plan to escape, one that did not include passing through the fight. Unluckily, the person had not noticed me either.

When the rushed and light steps were close enough for me to slice through, I had to decide whether to kill the woman or child instantly or to make myself visible and make the person surrender.

After a moment of fast deliberation, I made my move, shifting myself swiftly on the way of the coming prey. I would take less time identifying and striking than I took deciding the better course of action. Branding my saber up to her face, just one quick step forward, a punctured throat and it would all be over... However, after one glance, I did not want things to happen as fast anymore.

In front of me, static, was a petite girl dressed in a red robe tied up front of the thinnest silk imaginable and nothing more. Her long and wavy hair of a dark brown tone, lit alive in a copper colored highlight, fell wild all over her forehead, shoulders and back. I thought the feeble light of the torch was tricking me, for that exotic creature was one of the most tempting beings I had seen in my entire life.

Her chest heaved after the fright, like a scared little bird, but her exquisite face kept emotionless, her brown eyes looking to the tip of my blade through those long, thick lashes. The torches were put by the side of each of those covered-up windows and we had one at our side, a few steps up. I needed to see her better.

"You didn't scream. It seems you know better than that. Move to your right, beneath the torch light." I said in my low and husky tone and she looked me in the eye for the first time.

Not looking down nor to the side, she felt the floor with her small bare feet and, slowly, went up one step, then another, while moving to the right. My sword was always following her, but her eyes were still on mine. When close to the wall, near the false window, she was finally to be seen.

I was not exaggerating and my eyes weren't betrayed by the shadows, my companion for gods know how many years now. She had just reached womanhood, her forms were all young, firm, and perky and I could see her whole shape, nude beneath the thin cover of the scarlet silk. Her skin, I could not decipher its real tone... It was bronze... Sun-kissed, it seemed. Something impossible here or anywhere near here. The girl smelled like spring flowers and wine.

"Who are you?" Slowly, punctuating the words so she could feel my intensity, and how important her answer would be, I asked her.

Never taking her dark eyes from mine, she answered, after taking a deep breath. "I'm the King's whore."

I was, even behind a number of other things I excelled at, an expert on detecting lies. I felt she put additional strength in her truth, enlarged it a little, maybe, or just wanted to ensure I believed her, which, at the end of my contemplation, I did. Leandrus seemed much less of a fool now, for hiding a preciosity like that for himself.

"For how long?" I asked, trying to understand the whole picture.

"Not long." She answered with a tinge of relief in her voice, but sorrow too. "He used me twice. Gave me to Theolus once. Just now he was secretly mouthing me."

Her eyes never left mine. Her body shivered, her face defied me. It was beautiful. She was definitely not one of those amongst the king's court. Nevertheless, there was something wrong about her.

"He and not your majesty. Theolus and not Lord Theolus. For a servant, you are quite intimate or you lack even the basic of manners." I pointed out.

"Or I hate them, Milord." She answered giving a short step back, which put her against the wall.

"I am no lord." I said stepping forward, the tip of my blade down from the tip of her nose to slightly touching her throat.

"You have my life in your hands now; you are the one which decides my destiny. That makes you my lord." She said slowly, after closing her eyes for a moment. "But if it dislikes you, I shall not call you that. I only wish to outlive this wretched family..." The girl sighed in a heartfelt manner.

"And you were with Theolus right now?" I asked while focusing on hearing something from up the stairs, unsuccessfully. "I can't hear a thing."

"That's because while he was sucking me, I heard swords." She hesitated for a second.

Clearly, she was thinking about what to say or what would I think about what she had to say. I understood the whole thing even before she could pronounce a word. Theolus was not following her down the stairs because he couldn't. My eyes widened a bit, the silvery color staring menacingly at her, making her spit her response. They were my signature. The only thing a person could see of me when I was fully clothed and masked to do what I do.

"He had me at the bed; legs open in front of him, while he knelt before me, mouth there, in me... I hit his head with a candleholder. He fell to the ground bleeding. I rushed down the stairs and left him there."

Silence followed. Her breathing quickened. She put both hands back, at the edge of the window's stool, somewhat defensively, for the first time. Again, I knew what crossed her mind. She did not know what I was doing there. If I were a supporter of the prince in any way, she would be dead now.

Her apprehension was palpable. I could see the hairs bristle on her thin delicate arms. I could also see the nipples of her beautiful young breasts protruding beneath the red silk. However, her face remained the same. Chin up, not as if she was facing me, but as someone who preferred to die with dignity, who knew better than to fear death or, maybe, wished for it. That just added to the layers of exoticity around her, to the temptation that was the girl in front of me.

"It means that, if I touch you, I'll feel you wet." I said almost without thinking. My tone not provoking at all, no second intentions... Until I thought about it. I was just pointing out a fact that would prove her point. Now I was thinking about the feeling of touching that girl. I could not let a thought like that cross my mind. Something like that was not part of my world.

She glared at me, as if my affirmation had really taken her by surprise, then her eyes lowered for the first time. “Then touch me, milord.” The phrase came out like a whisper, a tinge of shame and I could not feel much more. Maybe she was, in fact a whore. Her body tense and still, but there was a certainty in her words. She clearly knew of the necessity of proving herself, otherwise it would only add to the chance of her being dead at the end of this encounter.

I swiftly juggled my saber from my right to my left hand and laid it horizontally below the girl's chin, lightly touching her neck at the same time that I stepped forward, decreasing the distance between our bodies. The girl was small, in a way my tallness seemed to double when close to her.

She startled and tried to step back, to avoid the blade and ended up sitting at the tall window's stool, tiptoed, her neck stretched and her face up, really close to mine. I could feel her whole body trembling when I reached down to touch her right thigh, a skin tender, warm, as I had never felt in my life.

The cold touch of my fingertips made her gasp sharply and shiver all over. I felt a tingle, as if a part of me for a long time forgotten had woken up… And that was no good. Not for me, nor to her.

I slid my fingers, slowly, to the inner part of her left leg. The girl inhaled deeply, her eyes wide open and fixed on mine. I felt her attention divided between those two very specific things happening to her body now, sharp steel and curious fingers, while she panted, the smell of her hot breath on my face. What seemed to be just a proof check from both our sides was becoming much more. I felt my blood, trained to circulate slowly through my veins, starting to warm as well as my breath increased in speed, escaping from my self-induced catharsis.

Up her silky robe I went and, by the moment the chill of my skin met the hotness of her entrance, she gasped loudly and her eyes filled with knowledge "Cold Death..." my index finger slid between her petals, she was wet, inviting… "You are Cold Death..." then she closed her eyes.

No more defying look. No more chin up. No more "whore".

By the moment that she recognized me, two very distinct facts came to surface:



To her, the almost certainty that she would end up as dead as the tales tell about anyone who had met Death itself. With the exception of the one woman that escaped my predecessor's cold hands and started the rumor that originated our legend.

To me, now there was absolutely no way that she could recognize me being a mere courtesan, or a whore, even a royal one. Everybody in the near kingdoms knew about the man who dwelled in the shadows, dressed in it, whose chilling proximity announced death nearby... But the touch of my skin, only someone at the deep part of a royal court would know about it. A whore that has being around for so little time, used by King Leandrus twice, given to Prince Theolus once...

I asked her who she was and she told me her truth. Sad, but smart.

“MORAINE!!!” A rumbling voice called her from the top of the stairs.

She opened her eyes again, straight into mine, while everything made sense. The "dark-skinned midget, hard to the eye, locked up in a tower", she was right in front of me. Now it was clear that it was no shame what motivated the queen to lock this girl out of sight, but the purest jealousy. The king would do no opposition, as he would have her for himself... And his son.

Heavy steps ran down the stairs, but she did not express any intention of moving, even when I lowered my blade a little. I was much more dangerous than her half-brother roaring her name while rushing downstairs on her trail.

It was the right choice, that of hers, but what about mine? Now I was confronted with an interesting dilemma: Should I kill her now?

"By the way his voice sounds, you were telling the truth." I said stepping back, pointing my curved blade to her again, to the tip of her pretty and little nose. "That earned you the right to choose: do you want to see him dead before you are?" I asked, and it was a trick question.

Unless she had a clear desire to die – I mean, a clearer one, since she already demonstrated to be quite calm when facing a life-threatening situation – and was completely disgusted with her life, she would opt for the other person to die first. Despite very particular situations, everybody would. What I wanted was to keep analyzing her. Through her tone, her body language, her breathing, I would be able to know what she thought… I was intrigued, and that was rare.

Even with if she trembled and had a shaking voice, her pose was that of the beginning again, composed, noble. She rose her face, chin up, and asked "That blood on your right hand, is that the blood of our majesty?", to which I nodded and watched attentively as she continued, after taking a deep breath, in some sort of relief "Kill him and I'll gladly let you do anything you want to me before you kill me."

The girl hated him. It was written all over her face. She hated him more than the thought of being abused, then killed. Seemed to be the same with the king.

It was decided. I would give her that.

Quickly, I sheathed my saber and took her by both shoulders. She startled and looked puzzled at me, while I moved her back to the brightest point of the torch light, then gave a couple of steps back into the shadows only seconds before the heavy steps were too close, leaving her as a decoy.

I took a slow, deep breath while letting go of every bit of warmth, of temptation, of the vivacity I had felt some minutes before and I mingled into the shadows. The girl looked terrified, astonished, when she noticed that she could no longer see me.

So much that she didn't notice when her enormous half-brother, running down the stairs, came close enough to slap her face with the outside of his big hand, hitting her so strongly that she hit the wall and then fell down on the stairs.

"YOU CUNT! YOU FILTHY SOUTHERN BITCH! YOU..." He kept roaring; big, blonde, plump, he shifted his weight in his white nightgown, clearly preparing to kick her. He was so easy to read, and that was the military-trained son of that stupid king. The blow would hit the right side of her waist or ribs with a high chance that she would get badly hurt - he weighed three times her weigh, easily – and, although he was not in a position that I could go for a clean kill, I would not let him do that.

With a swift move, I hooked his right foot on my own foot, pulling it back. By doing so, he lost his momentum, at the same time I got him off-balance. With my other feet, while turning my body, I kicked the back of his knee down, making it bend and hit the ground fiercely making a sturdy cracking noise.

"AAAAAR---!!!" He tried to start a horrendous scream, but I cut it before it effectively happened.

He would not be able get up anymore, just as my arm locked around his neck took away his ability to shout or to breathe, for that matter... Neither his blood would be able to reach his brain. It displeased me immensely, the contact, the struggle, the time it consumed to end someone with my bare hands. I liked the instantaneity of my method using blades; puncturing, slicing, it did not matter.

Still on the ground, beneath the thin and high window, the girl watched intently while her half-brother trashed around, his arms forward in a vain attempt to grab her after he gave up trying to fight me, barely grasping the edge of her robe or touching her legs while I held him back. She just watched, a thin line of blood dripping from the left edge of her mouth, as the guttural noises he made trying to breathe eased and the light of life vanished from his eyes.

I lowered him to the ground, slowly. It was the end of Theolus, The Second Son and the last thing he saw was the mix of horror and satisfaction on his half-sister’s face.

She kept looking at him, his body lying just in front of her, and it took thirty seconds for her to adjust her mind in face of what just happened. I used that time to focus downstairs, on the disappearing sounds of the fight I left as a lure there. It was still going on, but with less intensity.

It was time to leave, which left me with the decision of how to deal with her.

As if she was reading my mind, she looked up, her eyes into mine. She knew it was time.

I could not remember the last time I felt so divided between courses of action. My mind was split; should I explain to her why she could not keep living, being the last survivor of the Caestyr dynasty? Or should I just stab her quickly in the heart, so she wouldn't have time to let fear finally get the best of her?

Never had I given so much thought about the way to deal with the death of a target. My decisions were never based on mercy or pity. However, at that same moment, I could feel even compassion for her, and that was not normal.

Nevertheless, during the short time I took to decide, she decided herself. She stood up, trembling "Are they all dead? The royal family?" to which I nodded. The girl then sighed, in a contained sorrow, with a tinge of relief and started to untie the front of her crimson silk robe.

I had already seen her contours through the transparency of the fabric, but when the front part of the robe opened and I could see her skin, unimpeded, not a trace of hair on top or around the beautiful molds of her entrance, at the apex of her toned legs... Then the clothing fell lightly on the ground, just beside the corpse, still losing its warmth.

Her shape was so beautiful, a tight little body, her pert young breasts topped with little red nipples that seemed tumescent. What was interesting because the temperature there at the stairs was fine, what gave me a hint that, at least partially, the shakiness, the breathlessness, the way her eyes never left mine with the exception of the few moments she looked down, absorbed in her terrible situation… She seemed be aroused. It made me think about what kind of life she could have endured here. What a peculiar girl.

She just looked at me, tears finally starting to appear on her eyes and I could not be sure for which of the numerous reasons it was happening. "I am a woman of my word. I could see this bastard die. You had them all killed..." A little smile formed on her lips "I am all yours now, to the bitter end. Just tell me where you want me."

The time was short. Spending any of it there was wrong. However, I wanted it. I wanted to feel her from the inside, badly, but I had to think about my men, about my village. The worry fought with how eager I was. I felt myself losing control after years, many years. I felt myself awake, hard, without my consent. I had absolute control of my body, of my aura, of my thoughts. My blood was so much my weapon as was my saber, my daggers, my hidden blades... Now that same blood was pushing its way into action and I could not hold it. I was so eager that it hurt.

With the little control I had left in me, while I stepped forward opening my trousers, I just defined in my mind that it should be quick.

I pointed to the window and she obeyed promptly, already knowing what I meant by that. She turned around and bent, putting both her hands on the window stool. "Like that?" She asked.

"Yes, like that." I answered while holding my hard rod in hand and looking at her perfect behind. Before getting to close I could see her little entrance in detail; it was beautiful, rosaceous red petals partially hidden by soft molds of skin, looked so fragile, so untouched, even though I knew otherwise.

"Ah!" The girl gasped in a high pitch when my left hand touched the side of her hip and I saw her having goose bumps all over. "It's so cold... Your hand..."

I did not answer. In fact, I was going to show her that it could be worst. With my right hand, I pressed the head of my member on her soft entrance, than rubbed it, fiercely.

The girl then inhaled noisily, sharply, startled, when she felt that every inch of my skin was cold, not only my hands. The brunette, or redhead, as even my trained eyes weren't able to distinguish, looked back, to me, from over her shoulder, her right eye widen in disbelief.

Disbelief we shared when I felt her warm, wet, inviting... Not spending much time, even if I worried how I would fit my size inside of such a space that seemed so small, I pushed forward.

"Huungh!" She groaned loudly when I forced the head in, passing the initial resistance of her pussy, so unbelievably tight. "Huuuuuuh!!!"

I had to hold on tight not to groan myself, when I felt her scalding insides, squeezing me so hard that I felt like I was breaking her, ripping her apart. But I didn't stop, much the opposite; when I felt like her entrance wouldn't let me go any further, I pulled half inch out and then shoved it in again, reaching deeper on every thrust, which made her groan exasperatedly. Even so, there was always a note of pleasure on the trembling girl's tone, on her velvety, delicious voice, no matter how she seemed to struggle with that huge, gelid thing, deeply plunged in her most intimate place.

Until I felt it, her end, the bottom. She let out a more cried groan as soon as I pushed against it. There was most than an inch of me still out of her. I waited one second in place, enjoying how buried I was into that girl. It felt like she had the fucking sun inside of her, so perfect, so alive in such a horrendous situation, now melting around of me while I ravished her.

Taking her hips tightly with both my hands, feeling a flawless grip on the accentuated curve of her waist, I started pummeling in and out of her, not holding anything back.

It was not like me to let myself go, just as it was not like me to abuse or to rape a victim. I have had slaves before and, even so, what I wanted was their servitude, their labor, not their sex. I respected what I did. I respected death and all that came with it. In addition, for some reason, I did not feel like I was trespassing in any way. I couldn't know why.

Therefore, I kept doing it, feeling the outcome coming quickly, after all these years of what seemed like celibacy.

"Ahhh-ahhhh-ahhhh-Aghhh!!" She moaned for me, feeling wetter as it went on, groaning loudly, painfully, every time I pushed in more aggressively or when I hit her cervix, which I was not worried about doing, nor did she complain about.

The sensation was great, when it rubbed against her deepest part, increasing my pleasure by the accentuated grip and because there was a sensation of power, of being able to do whatever I wanted to her, it was inebriating.

Then, when my breath became faster as I supposed it could go after all these years and I felt I would explode in an absurd climax inside that girl, the "king's whore", the "dark-skinned midget"... She got my attention with her words, while I still assaulted her frantically.

"P-Please-pleas-se... (gasp) Look m-me i-in the eyes w-when you d-do i-i-it... Ahh-Ahhh!!"

When you do it. She meant killing her. I still haven't decided how to do it. The only thing I knew was that she deserved a good death. It seemed she had been fucked by the crown just like we all did, also literally.

I stopped for a moment and withdrew from her. When I took her on my arms, she startled, waiting for the worst, her little fingers closing in a fist, frightened. But I just turned her around and put her sitting on the window stool, her back on the brick wall that covered it. Who would think that thing would have a use after all.

Leaning over her, slowly, I bent her and put her legs by the sides of my torso and around my back, then her arms around my neck. With the proximity of our faces, I became astonished again, about how gorgeous that girl was, so different from our pale, monochromatic people.

"I'm sorry I can't let you go." I said softly to the young girl while her face contorted in the mix of pleasure and a tinge of pain, while I pushed myself inside of her again.

Not taking her eyes from mine, while I started to move in and out again, she tried to answer "I-I understa-and... I w-wouldn't l-let A-Aoaah-AAAHH!!" but she started to groan and grimaced when I took the advantage of the position, she sitting folded and bending her pelvis forward, to push myself even deeper, being able to put all of it inside of her. The feeling of the head of my dick rubbing so roughly against the innermost part of her, increased the sensation I couldn’t imagine capable of being even more pleasurable. She gritted her teeth and kept saying, now on a higher tone "My-y p-pleople doesn't de-se-erve li-i-iving!! Ahhh!! AAAah!! AAAAAAAGH!!!"

Holding her tightly, as I could not resist her tightness no more, I gave all I had, humping her fiercely and making her scream while I ravaged her entrance, pushing it inside harshly and rapidly until I felt myself coming...

Then I noticed her having spasms underneath me, her pussy contracting and her arms wrapping tightly around my neck…

When I finally exploded, spouting everything I had deep inside of her, feeling that she was coming too.

I took a moment to breathe, and to think, while the orgasm irradiated through my body and I felt her fighting spasms, contracting all over, gasping, her arms and legs tight around me.

"I can't fathom how you were able to enjoy this to the point of coming with me." I stated.

Still panting, her face buried on my neck, she answered, "It's the first time this happens by my consent. Or at least I'm fooling myself to think that it were by my consent."

"Lets say it was a mutual effort. I would have probably liked to force you to this, but I wouldn't have done it. Never did." I said and she remained silent.

I gave her some time, but little, as I could not hear any more noise coming from downstairs. Soon my men would come up looking for me and we have to leave this place as soon as we can. This moment here took too long. So I slid my left hand over her shoulder, to her neck. I rose her face, my thumb forcing her chin up, but carefully not to hurt her.

With her big brown eyes on me, I took her right breast in my hand, massaging, caressing her erect nipple with my thumb. She sighed, seeming to relax, but still shivering.

"I never thought death would be like that." She whispered in a beautiful, husky tone.

"Death has many faces and it decides which to show to whom it embraces." I said while delighting myself on the beautiful traces of her face, her admired look. Even if she had tears rolling down her cheeks now, she seemed in peace.

She sighed, shivering even more, not only by fear, or by anticipation of what was to come, but because my body was reverting to its normal temperature, much colder than hers was.

Every time I noticed the precious seconds passing, I wondered why I had not finished her yet. She could not live! If she lived it would be all for nothing. It did not matter if she was only half-royal blood. It did not matter if she was a woman and could not take the crown for herself because, eventually, if she bore a child, a boy, he would be the king of Caestyria. That could not happen. Moraine had to die.

"Could death... Show me its real face before I go?" The girl asked. "Think of it as a last wish... Let me see the face of the man who really had me, before he incarnates my death. Please." And she waited for my response, while silence installed. It was unexpected. Completely.

I felt a tingle, deep inside of me. As if the empathy I had killed inside of me to become what I am was screaming from afterlife. Then I gave in.

I untied the black cloth that formed my mask, first the bottom, then the top part. Then she could see the face of a thirty-year-old man, absolutely pale, with pitch black straight hair cut long and wild, a long and thin scar on the right side of my face, from up the cheekbone to the edge of my chin.

Her eyes widened. I always got that reaction, as I know I look like an apparition, a ghost. My eyes so bright that they seem like pure bright silver.

She touched my face with her little, warm hand "You are nothing like I imagined you to be. No one would say death looked like a so handsome man..."

It had been a long time since the last time I had shown my face to someone outside my village like that. I was doing it all wrong. I was betraying the very thing that made me more than a normal man.

My eyes were on hers, all the time, and some seconds later, I knew what I should do. I leaned forward and kissed her. I tasted her as much as she tasted me. I gave this part of me to her as a departure gift, a way to say sorry for what I was about to do. Now I would use the dagger hidden in my wrist and slid it right beside her right breast, were my hand already was, puncturing her heart and ending her suffering by the fastest way I knew.

She was giving herself to me too. I felt it through her kiss. There was nothing wrong, there were no lies, I could feel it, feel how she seemed to really thank me for what I was doing, for freeing her and...

I couldn't do it.

For the first time in fifteen years, I could not end a life. I had killed old people, young people, poor, rich, friends and family that had turned against what I believed or me and... I could not kill that girl yet. I removed my lips from hers and sunk back into her eyes.

She was crying when she asked, "Can you do it in a way that I won't suffer much?"

"Yes, I can." I stated. "But I can also offer you to keep living under my command. You tasted me. You know how ruthless I feel and it may end up being more hurtful than it was here, with your people, because my life is severe in its essence. I would never offer this to anyone. In fact, I'm doing this because I know that you will be honest, since death is what you want. I am giving you the chance to have it by your side and inside of you for a little longer..."

I could feel her heart beat even faster.

******

If you want this to continue, let me know leaving a comment. All kinds of feedback are welcome.

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Embracing Cold Death

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PandaKing — 30 January 2019 12:23
I want this to continue, I like it soooo much and its kinda cute.
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