Chapter 1

Her mattress seemed stiffer then usual tonight, she thought. Her blanket must have slipped off her body. She felt chill. Groaning, she rolled to her side. Her left hand patted the bed around her, searching for the blanket. The sheets were strangely crumpled. Had she been thrashing in her sleep? Had she had a nightmare? Odd. She didn't feel like she'd had a nightmare. She recalled only the barest hints of her dream. Even so, she felt it had been the sweetest dream since Philip died.

It really was chill. She mumbled in annoyance and opened her eyes. Nothing changed. She was still half sleeping, Mariana decided. She closed her eyes, shook her head to clear away fog, sat up, and opened them again. Darkness. Her heart beat faster. Had she gone completely blind in the night? She squeezed her bed sheets ... and felt them give. Her fingers slid through the sheets! The substance inside was cold, and soft, and kind of sticky.

She raised her left hand and brought the palm in front of her face. In the dark, it was no more substantial than it had been pressed against the bed, but somehow the action served to lend definition to her sensations. The stuff inside the mattress had stuck. Her fingers felt grainy and there was an uncomfortable pressure under her nails.

She moved her feet, looking for the edge of the bed. The hard surface below her seemed to extend forever. Mariana whimpered. On hands and knees, she patted around her, searching for clues. At last, her fingers hit a familiar shape. "Oh, thank God," she whispered.

Reverently, she traced it with her hands. She turned it the right way around, sat up on her knees, and slipped the glasses over her eyes.

The sound she made wasn't quite a moan or a scream. It was something in between. It was a sound of a frightened animal – a sound the human language had long since forgotten.

What she saw wasn't anything she recognized. It lacked any definite shape that her brain could describe. She saw that the darkness was incomplete. A few splotches of light glinted around her. They hinted at color and gave a sense of depth to the black. All she could tell was that there were shapes, like ghosts, all around her.

Mariana had toyed with belief in the supernatural for most of her life. In college, she had cast love spells, giggling, and dreamed of fairies and dark seductive strangers coming for her. She became more practical when Philip was born and even more so when his father never came home one afternoon. Still, in some deep corner of her mind she had continued to believe. All the while she had told herself it was metaphors and projections of fantasy. Her belief had been in the hedonism and the psychology behind the fantasy, never the thing itself. Recently, she had learned better, but that had been a practical thing, a financial transaction. Living in the city, ever illuminated by street lamps, Mariana had never understood why the darkness had spawned so much legend.

She understood now. Inside her, the instincts of prey awakened. She knew that she would see her death coming, yet never be able to distinguish its shape, never have a clue how to defend herself. She realized now why Philip had been afraid of the dark.

"Shhhhhh..." a voice whispered soothingly. Mariana sought the sound. "Shhhhh..." there was gentleness and sympathy in the tone. She found the source: two amber but otherwise human-like eyes. "Shhhhh..."

Everything made sense! Mariana heard the wind rustling through the trees. Her fingers brushed over the ground, caught and traced a stalk of grass.

"You," she whispered.

In answer, something glinted just under the amber eyes. She squinted and could just barely make out a set of human-like teeth, but a little sharper, with two vicious fangs. The creature smiled. "Shhhhhh..." One amber eye winked. Eyes and teeth disappeared.

Mariana started to shake. She had to grip the ground to steady her hands. "Oh God." She knew where she was. She knew what was happening. She had hired their services, after all. Now that it was imminent, the fact of it was more terrifying than she could have imagined. She almost wished she could take it back, except she didn't know how. It was too late for regrets. She pushed herself up to her feet.

She reached out, grasping at her surroundings like a mummy. She took a step forward and her fingers touched a hard, rough surface. It was a tree trunk.

"Shhhhh..." the sound came from behind her. Mariana spun around fearfully. Her head hit a branch. She gasped, covering the spot with her hands. She blinked tears away from her eyes. When she could look, she saw nothing behind her. Her heart beat faster, pumping excited blood through her veins.

"Shhhhh..." this time it came from her right. As she turned, she reached out with her hand to make sure she didn't bump her head anymore. She saw no amber eyes.

The next sound came from behind her. It was a growl. Mariana bit her lip. She didn't dare turn toward it. Another growl followed shortly after the first, this time closer. Grasping for obstacles, Mariana stumbled away from it.

Growling pursued her. As her senses adjusted for the darkness, she moved more assuredly. Her stumble turned into a slow trot. Her breath became quick and hoarse. Every once in a while, when she would glance to the side, she would see amber eyes in the distance.

She knew something was about to change when she realized the trees were becoming more visible. A moment later, Mariana burst into a small clearing. It spanned only ten or twelve feet across, but sufficed for the moonlight reach to the ground. She knew, somehow, that if she wanted to live she had to look down as she ran. She made it maybe half way across. But she had to look up before she reentered the forest. No, she was honest enough to admit, temptation was the real reason.

Temptation did not disappoint. She lost her footing. Years of judo probably saved her from breaking her neck. Mariana rolled into a crouch, her gaze riveted by the nude woman amidst the trees.

The woman stood mostly hidden in darkness. A patch of light cut across her upper chest, revealing a skinny yet muscular frame, apple sized breasts, with eraser shaped nipples. The skin was flawless. In the dim light of the moon, it took on a grayish hue. Above that, another ribbon of light fell past the left side of the woman's face. It disclosed curved cheekbones, delicate ears, a hint of long thick black hair behind her, and a large glowing red eye. It's sister shone out of the darkness where the right side of the woman's face would've been in good light.

The glowing red eyes brought it home. The naked woman in front of her wasn't human!

She didn't know how she knew where to look next, but somehow she did. Mariana looked to her right at the man standing at the edge of the trees. He was perhaps an inch under 6 feet, with short brown hair, a curved nose, and ears that looked slightly large for his head. His naked body was lithe, with well defined muscles. His eyes glowed amber as well, and his hard cock pointed toward Mariana.

The man stepped toward her. Cold hands touched her neck, making her turn. The woman knelt beside her. She was just as beautiful as Mariana remembered. The woman caressed her face and leaned forward to kiss her. Mariana closed her eyes and accepted. She hugged the woman to her.

Another mouth began to suck on her breast. Mariana gasped into the woman's mouth. The man's hands went around her. She grasped for him with her hand. Finding his cock, she began to pump it. She slipped her tongue into the woman's mouth and felt it skewered by the woman's fangs. The pain made her tingle. She whimpered around the kiss, unable to draw away. There were hands on her face, caressing her soothingly. The pain in her tongue started to numb. She could taste her own blood, and could feel as the woman suckled her tongue. It caused more pain, but she didn't mind.

The woman drew back. Before Mariana could open her eyes, her mouth was captured by the man. He kissed her passionately, sucking at her tongue like the woman had. There were fingers on her clitoris. Hands were everywhere. She felt a mouth close around her left nipple. Her hand was lifted away from the cock. She missed it for a moment, but then they moved and she felt it splitting her cunt lips. The woman was kissing her way up from Mariana's breasts to her neck. As the cock slid inside her, Mariana's first orgasm hit. The world faded away, leaving only ecstasy in her mind. When that faded, nothing remained.

"Constance, I'm serious!"

"Mmm-hmm." Mortal ears could not have heard the murmur from beneath the covers. She tightened her lips around my semi-hard cock. Her tongue flicked over the head. The sensation threatened to overwhelm me. But this wasn't the time!

"Constance, we need to talk about this!"

"Mmm-hmm." I felt her warm tongue trace a line down my cock. Her lips pressed against my balls. She licked. I dug my hands into the sheets, taking care, despite myself, not to puncture the mattress. It was all I could do not to grab her head and force it down over my growing erection. She felt as unsure about the situation as I did. I knew, and she knew I knew. I could hear the subtle fluctuations in the flow of her blood. This was her way of deflecting.

"Constance, stop it!"

"Mmm-hmm." Her lips parted and closed over my balls. She cocked her head, pulling playfully on my ball sack. Her tongue jingled my balls lovingly, moving in slow repetitions over the underside of my pouch.

I groaned. Unable to help myself, I parted my legs to give her a little more room.

"Mmm-hmm." Her voice vibrated across my groin. She sounded feline: self-satisfied and gleeful. I gritted my teeth.

"Damn it, Constance, we're being audited!"

My balls dropped from her mouth. She traced her tongue up over my cock and onward. I felt the covers lift from my torso. I couldn't see her in the absolute darkness of our bedroom, nor could she see me, except for her eyes, like two embers in the middle of nothingness. "You know, Sal." Her voice was matter-of-fact. "Back in the old country, we had something of a tradition. We'd wake up and start each morning with a pint of sour milk. Or maybe a bit of goat cheese. Didn't matter what it was, as long as it was white and salty." She paused. The embers winked out and the edge of the cover touched my chest again. "And I've tried so hard to cling to my roots all these centuries," she murmured. Her fist closed over the bottom of my hard shaft, lifting it away from my stomach. She licked the head. "And if you are cruel enough to deny a willing las like me her heritage ... Sal ... there are other ways..." Her lips locked around my shaft. I felt the points of her teeth press against my flesh. A game. A warning. A provocation.

I reached for her head.

My fingers tightened around her hair. She let go of my prick, permitting me to force it all the way down her throat. Her tongue flickered where and when it could, tickling me and giving me as much pleasure as she could manage. When I came, she held my thighs tight, gulping eagerly. Even when my grip on her hair relaxed, she kept my cock in her throat, feeling it soften.

Finally, she pulled her head away from my crotch. She squirmed up past the covers to give me a soft kiss on the lips. "Thank you, Sal. Now, that wasn't so hard, was it? Come on, we'll talk in the shower," she added, the door of our sanctum open and her body gone from mine before the last words reached my ears.

"Constance, we kill people..."

"We don't kill people, Sal." Steam from the shower felt like a gentle, warm caress all over my hyper-sensitive skin. I leaned against the wall, out of reach of the water. Constance stood between my legs, one hand holding a barber's razor, while the other lathered shaving cream over my face. I hadn't bothered with grooming too much in the last years of my mortal existence. The immortal consequence of that turned out to be an exaggeration of every modern man's regular chore. Every evening I woke with a beard down to my ribs. Whatever her twisted reasons were, I was just as happy Constance enjoyed shaving me.

"No? Funny coincidence how they all end up dead after we are through with them."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. But we don't murder them."

"Legally?"

A dainty, pale fist closed around my beard just under my chin and yanked my head back, exposing my neck. "Hold still," she warned. With a gentle tug pulling my hairs taunt, she drew the razor between her hand and my chin, severing most of the beard. "Honorably," she said. "We provide a service to those who seek their own death." The razor's blade brushed up my neck. "They find us and we arrange for them one last experience. A brilliant taste of the erotic and the mystical. They die not with a itchy rope around their necks or a disgusting pistol wound at their temples – hold it ... there! - but in the passionate embrace of a vampire. They die touching magic, Sal. Through us they attain an aesthetic suicide." The blade tickled my cheek. "Legally, we only photograph specters of death. No different than your average blockbuster, only prettier."

"And how do we explain that all our models are unaccounted for? Or the extra money?"

"The models are not our or the auditor's problem. The money comes from photography consulting. I've added fake receipts to the books. The identity of all our clients is private." She shrugged. Her blade flashed past my other cheek.

"Even supposing it all checks out – and auditors are trained to look deep, Constance – the message says an afternoon interview. That's a problem!" I stretched my neck and felt my smooth chin.

"That's why we have a lawyer on retainer, Sal," she said. "Harley will field the auditor and keep us insulated." She sounded confident, but I could hear her blood. She had as many doubts as I did. Believing in our lawyer's prowess against the IRS was a little like believing in Santa Claus. Still, we both desperately wanted to believe. Or, perhaps, if not believe, procrastinate on the doubt for a little longer...

Constance raised her arms, as I poured soap over my hands and started to spread it over her body. I could never stop marveling at her beauty. Raven hair framed a porcelain frame, with small breasts, long pointed nipples, and a set of legs and an ass that could make a vampire believe in Santa Claus after all.

She closed her eyes and sighed as my hands roamed across her. A soft meow escaped her as I pinched her nipples. Her hands went around my neck. "My turn," she murmured, pulling herself closer. Her lips parted for me. We kissed passionately, desperately groping each other. Our tongues caressed.

I was hard again. She pushed me against the wall. Her hands tightened around me. Draping one leg over my waist, Constance hopped forward so that her cunt hovered over my cock head. Hot water beat against my cheek. It fell between us, slithering in tiny streams into the cleavage made where her hard nipples pressing against my chest.

My hands went to her ass. I squeezed. "Fuck me, Sal," she breathed. "Fuck me please ... badly ... I need it now..." I thrust forward, pushing her ass into me. Her cunt was slippery. It's lips parted, inviting my penetration. Only when I had sunk all the way in did the muscles clamp down around me with vampiric strength. I gasped. Her lips pressed against mine again, silencing me.

I pushed away from the wall, positioning us right under the water. Her other leg came off the ground, winding around my waist too. Her palms pressed against my chest. Her face draw away from mine. Her legs tightened, the tips of her toes pushing off against my calves. Her cunt rose along my shaft, dragging and grinding with each millimeter, until it griped no more than my cock head.

We stared at each other, each breathing deeply. I thrust, hard, pulling her ass down, slamming my groin against her groin and taking back all the space she had vacated. The slap echoed. She gasped. I gasped.

Her body tensed, pulling her cunt back up. I pushed her down.

Our rhythm quickened. We stared into each other's eyes, fucking with an urgency, and a lunatic passion that we hadn't unleashed since the first months of our partnership.

When we came, it was understood. She wrapped her arms around me and her teeth broke the veins in my neck. My teeth went into her. My cum shot into her and her cum gushed all around it. I draw her into me and felt her draw me into her. Blood flowed between us. Our hearts beat with the same rhythm. I wanted her so badly ... I wanted ... blissful unconsciousness chased away all possible thought for a moment, as the instinctive drives of our bodies took over.

A little later, as we were toweling off, I asked "And what if he finds something the matter?"

Constance frowned. "If there's a problem," her eyes hardened, "we'll just explain our situation and ask politely." She folded her towel over the rack.

"But we don't murder," I said, stopping her at the door. She looked at me. I could hear the uncertainty in her blood. I could see it in her eyes. I had felt it during our union. This was a new rule for both of us, a change after all the centuries. We were doing something different, Constance and I. Our self-imposed morality had been devised to protect the business, but we had both come to recognize it in each other too. We had been searching for it. Perhaps not that particular rule above others, but a foundation for a code. Death by Vampire Studios grounded us in the world. In our own ways, we had each grown tired of the lonely anarchy of the night that dominated the lives of our kind. What we had here was our first moral dilemma, wherein the preservation of the moral could destroy the very foundation of the code.