Her Pet Puppet

Ian breathed out deeply trying to push the image of his dead comrade into the back of his mind. Guilt swarms him. He shouldn't have left Sam there. He shouldn't but, what could he do? Sam had practically pushed him away and tackled the swarm of bloodsuckers by himself.
Ian had just about hobbled out of the gates into the woods when she arrived.

They're fast like that and even though as a hunter, Ian has certain abilities, with all his injuries he couldn't possibly defend himself against one so powerful. So the inevitable happened. She beat him.

Squeezing his eyes shut he gains flashes of images of the rain beating down on him as he scrambles around in the mud to find his weapons-to defend himself. But as the blood loss from his wounds became too great, he remembers his head clouding over and a blackness seeping in.
Now...Now, though, he's not outside. He's not even in a dungeon. Oddly enough, he's strapped to a tall, thick wooden pillar with stiff, tightly coiled rope. He's more or less warm. The temperature inside the room from the gothic chandeliers burning with candles were drying him out. And with the rest, he can feel himself starting to heal. Only problem is, he's in some unknown room, that looks like it's straight out of a 70's horror film. The walls are a deep red and black, the floor is made of grey stone and all the furniture's made from wood...including the large king-sized bed. It even has silk drapes hanging from its posters and numerous plush cushions on-top of the soft bedding.

Realisation dawns on Ian and his jaw clamps tight in anxiety. What the fúck is he doing in her lair? Because it so obviously is her lair and there's only one thing he can think of that she'd want from him-his blood. But why his, he has no idea. For vermin they are usually so picky. Especially ones that are as old as her. They only wants the purest humans. Virgin females, are typically their preference and the older the better, so why him. He's none of those things. He's definitely not a virgin, nor is he human, and at 26, he's not even that old. Torture, that must be it. She wants to drain his blood because she knows that as a hunter that is the absolute worst thing that could happen.

As he contemplates his demise, the solid oak doors creeps open. He keeps his eyes trained on the floor, resolving not to gaze at the monster. He can hear the door bolt shut and heels click against the stone tiles as the woman lazily strides towards him. Black suede, high heeled, ankle length boots cuts across the view of the grey tiles Ian has and the resolve in him to stay strong grows tenfold.

"Come, come lover. Do have a look. A peek. Don't tell me I've put in this effort for nothing," she teases in her low seductive voice. Ian inhales sharply, the sharp scent of some designer perfume wafting through his nose.
As she steps forward, he can now see the trail of red chiffon material behind her from her dress. Where it cuts short at the front, a pair of sleek, flawless, porcelain legs are displayed.
A short dramatic sigh flutters at his ears and he can tell that she's enjoying his defiance too much, but there's no way he'll just give into her.
"Really, lover? Let's not do this the hard way. Although...I do so enjoy a challenge," she teases.

Ian says nothing, but his body naturally tenses as he feels two cold fingers, push his chin up. In defiance Ian closes his eyes and tries to keep his expression even not to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.
She clicks her tongue and laughs softly before leaning so close he can feel her coolness against his ear.
"Good idea, lover. Closing your eyes will heighten your other senses," she whispers, her cool words sending shivers down his back. Fear slowly seeps into him and he tries his hardest to flatten it down.
Ian gives a low guttural growl which only causes her to laugh at him.
"Oh lover!" she exclaims leaning back a little. But the next second she presses closer to him.

Ian can feel her soft, chiffon dress braced against him and her body sending shivers of coolness down his body, urging it to burn harder.
"You're a little young to be a hunter aren't you?" she asks, her hands tracing his face. He tries to twist his head and escape from her grasp but he only gains a little leeway before she grips it back.
"So...youthful, warm..." she comments hypnotically tracing his eyebrows, his jaw and then his lips. Ian has a strong urge to lash out and bite her fingers but biting's more her thing rather than his.
He guesses he should have bitten because at least then that would have prevented what she does next-which is press her cold, dead lips against his. He tries to focus on that rather than their soft suppleness, which strangely causes heat to pool at his lower stomach.
It takes all his focus not to return the damned kiss.

She says nothing as she kisses the corner of his lips, across his jaw and down his neck. At the back, she pauses causing his breath to hitch. This is it. Now she'll rip out his throat and suck him dry.
"Relax lover; you're tempting me too much with that erratic pulse of yours," she mutters to him, giving him one last kiss before pulling back slightly.
"Open your eyes, hunter," she then tells him in a more serious, clearer tone. Despite himself, Ian's curiosity gets the better of him and his hazel eyes flicker open.
They drink in the sight of a stunning woman pressed against his body. Her skin is a pale, porcelain colour. Her cheekbones are sharp, lips full and painted red, her hair hangs in fat ringlets down her back and front, with side bangs sweeping at her forehead. Her eyes are dark, so dark that it's almost impossible to see her pupils, but her iris is tinged red at the edges.
"Why didn't you kill me?" he snarls, chanting to himself that she's meant to look that tempting. That it's all part of their disguise for luring in prey. Still all that doesn't help when he body just wants to fúck her, despite knowing she's an abomination.

She pauses for a minute, not giving him an answer before the corner of her lips curl up into a smirk and she says, "well, that's my little secret. And maybe if you're a good boy I'll let you in on it."
"What do you want with me, then?" he immediately responds, causing her smirk to grow wider.
"I've not quite decided yet, but right now... I've got a pretty good idea," she grins, eyes trailing down his lips to his body. Ian fights the urge to gulp in nervousness at what that could mean and instead stares at her defiantly.

One of her fingers traces from his Adam's apple down the column of his neck to the v-neck of his shirt. Two fingers are used to pick the drawstring knot of his shirt. Pulling it undone, her finger trails down the revealed flesh and pushes the dirty cotton material off his broad, tanned muscular chest.
"You don't like this do you?" she suddenly asks him coyly. His eyebrows scrunch in confusion. Doesn't like what?
"Huh?" he mutters but it seems the question was rhetorical as she grasps his shirt and rips it down the middle. He stifles his gasp of shock as her cool hand runs down his chest, trailing at his abdominals. Ian sucks in a shaky breath as her fingers caress the light brown trail of hairs at his abs.
"Stop it," he mutters but she takes no head to the command and instead her lips drag down his lips and slide to just above his left chocolate brown nípple. She relishes in the feel of the heat and the sound of his heart meticulously thumping away. Her teeth elongate and unable to fight her instincts, they lightly break the skin, allowing the crimson liquid to seep into her mouth. A unique taste of spices and sweetness coat her taste buds and send waves of pleasure to her brain.

Ian groans at soft pain of her teeth lightly sinking into his flesh and drawing his blood. He should be feeling disgusted and angry but her ability to send hormones through her teeth into his blood stream means that those feelings are pushed to the corner of his mind. Instead her injected poison of endorphins means he only feels pleasure from the dirty leech.
Forcing herself to let go the vampire slowly sinks down to her knees whilst trailing her kisses lower and lower.

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This part is continued on my profile on Inkitt (under the same name). For more details look at the 'Foreword' at the start.

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Several minutes later and that euphoric sensation continues for Ian, even when dizziness and black spots dance across his blurred vision of the stone ceiling.

"Stop..." his voice softly groans even before he's realised it's him.
She hears his plea and with reluctance has to admit he's right. She needs to stop, now, before she kills him or causes him to pass out.
With a roll of her eyes and a soft groan, she pulls her fangs out of him and slides his soft organ from under him. She shuffles up and rests against his abs.
"Rest up lover, I'll be back soon," she whispers to him before hooking a leg over and climbing off the bed.

Confusion sweeps through Ian as he tries to get his bearings straight, and register what she's just said. His eyes pop at realisation. She actually means to keep him alive?! She means to keep him alive! What the fúck...?!
"Hey! Wait! Wait!..." he calls, hoping it's not in vain.
Thankfully for him, she twists her redressed form around at the door and smirks.
"Yes lover?"
"What are you going to do with me? Why-why?...Just fúcking kill me already," he sighs tired already of her games. The shame, the guilt, the embarrassment is ridiculous and he'd rather she just twisted his head and send him into darkness straight away.

"Because lover...I plan on doing so much more to you..."