Blood Bride

Chapter Three

As the night went on the full moon seemed to grow in size. Becoming larger it illuminated more of the festival yet casting more shadows in the corners. I didn't know what time it was, but I suspected it was very late into the night.

As the minutes went by the music seemed to grow louder, the men bolder as they whisked their ladies away for a little fumble in the darkened backstreets but I sat rooted in a seat beside the main dance floor, watching Patrick spinning his cheery wife across the floor.

A slight chill wafted over me and I felt goose bumps form on my arms. Rubbing them away, I darted my eyes across the centre of the festival looking for a particular golden head.

Peter was on the other side of the dance floor, a tanker of beer in his hand and two girls who were pressed to his side, their bosoms falling out of their dresses. They were both blonde, their hair a mess of grease and other substances I didn't want to know about. Their dresses were hiked up, exposing their thighs and red hand marks from previous customers' grabby fingers.

But Peter didn't look interested, his eyes were fixated on me as he brought the edge of the drink to his lips and swiftly drank all of its contents in one before flinging the cup aside he strode away in anger, pushing aside the girls.

My shiver seemed to intensify as I watched Peter walk away and I hugged myself harder as my eyes trailed Peter's back until he disappeared into the crowd. The air seemed to grow colder and just as I rose to look for shelter a cloth was draped over my shoulders.

"Thank you" I said as I turned to look at my saviour. A man not much older than myself, maybe in his mid twenties, stood beside me. His face was close to perfection; a strong nose above slightly thin pale lips and his wide eyes were a hunter green, all topped with light copper hair. His eyes intrigued me and I felt myself move towards them instinctively and somewhat subconsciously as I peered closer. They were green but not vivid or bright, almost like what happened to clothes when they were left in the sun too long- faded and forgotten.

"It's my pleasure My Lady." The man said. He looked at me with what looked like a primordial hunger. His pupils diluted and he drifted closer to me before sitting softly beside me, his movements silent and graceful.

"I'm no Lady." I commented, looking down at my hands twisting in my lap as a blush formed on the top of my cheekbones.

"Well, you have the beauty of one," the man commented, taking a strand of my hair and wrapping his finger around it, mesmerised, "your face is as radiant as the moon, and your hair almost as dark as the night sky. Your lips are perfection, so full and as red as blood..." the man grasped my neck suddenly and pulled me close to him. He nestled his face in the crook of my neck, breathing in deeply, "and I can smell the sunlight on your skin. I can smell the pine trees and the flowers...and the lavender soap you used to wash yourself with yesterday..."

My breathing increased and my chest heaved as the panic rose inside me. This man, who was he? What did he want? Questions swam inside my head but no answers revealed themselves.

"...it's strongest here" the man continued and his handed drifted down to my chest, his head trailing behind slowly. His nose rubbed harshly against my dress, his nostrils flaring as he drank in my scent, drowning in its pureness.

"No!" I hit the man in the chest but it barely affected him and he continued to move his mouth towards my chest. Panicking, I swiftly hit him in between his legs and the man roared in blinding pain before jumping away from me.

"Bitch!" he hissed, clutching himself as he rose. His hand snapped out and grabbed me by the throat. Pain sparked around the man's fingers as he pulled me from my seat into the air. He turned my body so my back faced the festival and black tendrils started to wrap around my body as the he began to drag me into the darkness.