Blood Like Poison For the Love of a Vampire - By M. Leighton Page 0,82
not. He looked ghostly and chilling, more frightening that anything I'd ever seen, even in the best of scary movies.
His entire body seemed to be in constant motion, but motion that remained within the confines of his shape. It was as if he was changing, growing with every second, shifting and moving right before my eyes.
His blondish hair was adrift about his head, wiggling in a peculiar golden halo, squirming even. And his face, it was paler than Bo's, and beneath its surface, I could see movement there as well. It was like seeing hundreds of faces fighting for control, for dominance. It was as if his inner demons were visible to the naked eye, like they could be seen writhing and fighting for escape.
"The beautiful Ridley. I see you've had the blood of your mate."
Confused, my eyes flickered to Bo. My bravado faltered when I saw the stunned expression he was wearing. I didn't understand it.
"Let him go, Lars."
"If it's all the same to you, I think I'll keep him. After all, I've only just begun," he declared with a smile that could freeze water.
"He hasn't done anything to you."
"On the contrary, little flower, he has perpetrated quite the offense. And, sweet as it is for you to come to his rescue, young Bo here knew what he was getting into, knew the risk he was taking. I'd wager that he even expected death to come calling for him some day soon, isn't that right Bo?"
Lars didn't turn to look at Bo, but I couldn't help stealing one more glance in his direction. He had closed his eyes again. Whether in exhaustion or defeat, I couldn't know, but it didn't matter to me. Either way, I had to save him.
"Now, if you'll excuse me," he said, turning back to Bo in one fluid motion. He gave me no more thought than he would an irritating fly.
Lars moved closer to Bo, pausing for only a moment to look down at him and say, "I would say I'd be seeing you around, but...I won't."
Arching his back and throwing his head back, Lars let out a deep growl, one that curdled my blood and quieted every noise in the forest. The silence that followed was deafening, a loud roar of nothingness in my head as I watched his hostile takeover of Bo's body.
The erratic movement inside the shape that constituted Lars increased for several tense seconds, wriggling desperately, frantically within the bounds of his frame, until I began to see a rhythm emerge.
It was as if a million tiny points of light slowed and began to shift in a choreographed dance that held me captive. And then I saw something reaching for Bo, like the essence of Lars was stretching forth to claim him.
Thousands of wispy white fingers floated out from Lars like tendrils of smoke gravitating toward Bo. They settled on every surface of Bo's body, tethering him to Lars with thin, milky threads.
Pinpricks of blood sprang up at the tip of each tendril and Bo's body began to convulse, spasms squeezing his muscles from head to toe. His legs and shoulders strained against the stakes that bound him to the boulder, blood weeping from each wound and trickling down the face of the rock.
Within seconds, Bo's entire body was covered in blood and, though he was silent, his face was contorted in pain. It wasn't until I saw the telltale greenish black gangrenous color creeping up his neck toward his chin that I felt something foreign stir within me.
In that moment, something changed inside me. I doubt I'll ever be able to adequately describe it. But I'll never forget it. It was terror mingled with determination, desperation mixed with rage. It was an earth-moving force that welled up in my body, threatening to break it apart.
Building and building, a pressure started in my chest and radiated down into my stomach where it churned angrily. Bo's pain bubbled and gurgled in my veins, like my own blood was in agony, trapped inside my body.
Building and building, my lungs burned with the scream that crouched there, one that I held in and fed from like a fire feeding from oxygen. It fueled me somehow, pulsing and thriving inside me, pushing me to act.
Building and building, fury swelled behind my lids like a red tidal wave, washing