Demons of Lust (2 page)

“It is… but Leon… I do love you, I know I do.  You… you are the only man in over a century that I
did not kill.  How could I?  You are so sweet and beautiful. Please,
do not make me regret the decision…”

“No… no ma cherie, you are
incapable of love, you are heartless and soulless.  How could I possibly
trust you?”

“I will give you the world…” she
whispered desperately.  She leaned down and began to kiss on his neck and
down onto his shoulder, “Leon… anything you desire, I will obtain it for you… just
feed me with your sweet love…”

“Dominique!” Leon tried to push her away, “This is a place of God! Do not desecrate it so!”

 “Mon amour, I am a demon…”
she whispered, “To me, this is just a building.”

She kissed softly on his chest,
making a trail of red lipstick smudges down his body. He groaned, his back
arching slightly.  She smirked and retraced her trail back up with her
tongue.  It sent shivers through his body.

“Leon… life could be perfect for
you and me,” she whispered against his skin, “I’ll see that you get whatever
job you want.  That you are never in need of any pleasure you desire.”

“Nnngh…. Dominique…” the young man
groaned. She was driving him insane.

“You are torturing yourself mon
amour,” she whispered, “Your pleasure is my pleasure.  I want to make you
feel good and be happy.”

Leon bit his lower lip,
shivering.  Her curvaceous body was rubbing up against his, and he still
couldn’t stand to his feet, for fear of passing out completely.

“Come now, Leon, are you so self-righteous, so innocent that you do not want me?” Dominique breathed
in his ear.

“I cannot trust you,” Leon said, trying to ignore his desire for her.

“Leon…”  Dominique pouted, “Do
you really not want me?”

“Any straight man would be lying if
he said he did not want you ma cherie,” Leon said, “But you are a demon. 
And though you profess your love for me, you are a liar.  You cannot
love.  You feed on the love of others and never give any back!” 

Leon pushed her off of himself,
finding his strength in his convictions.  Dominique looked up at him and
her dark eyes grew tearful.

“You are wrong…” she whispered, “To
give love from inside of me is not an easy thing to do, but I am capable of
doing it.  I have in the past.”

“You are a liar,” Leon insisted, his eyebrows knitting together in anger as he stood up.

“I will show you,” the raven-haired
beauty whispered.  She took his hand and led him to the front of the
chapel, where upon the altar was a bowl and a pitcher of water.  She
poured the water in to the bowl until it reached the brim. Then she bit her
finger and let a drop of blood drop upon the surface.  Water poured over
the lip of the bowl, but just a little.

“Stare into the water, mon amour,”
she told him, “And you will see the first time I fell in love.  I have
been on this earth for over 2000 years.  The things you see will be
strange to you, but do not look away.  When you look away the spell will
be broken.”

Leon looked into the water and was
brought into some kind of trance as images began to swirl into the blood
stained water and he saw them move, and could hear the sound of horses.

Horses were traveling through
Medieval Great Britain.  On one horse was a young woman with long raven
hair that curled gently down her back.  Her name in those days was
Felicia.  She had spent many years in Rome, but had a sense of foreboding
and travelled to Great Britain in hopes of avoiding it.  Here in this
primitive land there were less people to love her, but so much disease, she
could suck them dry and leave them in a ditch without anyone caring.

Felicia dismounted her horse
when her party reached a busy town.  Men, women and children were gathered
in the square, where a man was being publically humiliated.  She melted
into the crowd and looked at this poor man.  His eyes came into contact
with hers and she felt it.  She felt that despite all of these misdoings,
his heart swelled with love, and she knew she must do something to help
him.  She pushed her way through the crowd until she was in the front and
partially shielded him.

“What has this man done?” she
asked in Latin, but no one understood her.  She touched him and picked up
their vernacular language and asked again.

“He is a heretic!” The people
began to shout. An official walked over and began to drag him away. Felicia
grabbed the officials arm.

“What is going to happen to
him?” she asked.

“He’s to be beheaded tomorrow,”
the leather-clad man said gruffly.

“No!” Felicia looked horrified.

“Do not cry for me, my sister,”
the man said, “For I am bound for a better place.”

“That’s enough out of you Edwin
of Kent!” the official said and dragged him away.

Despite the danger, Felicia
followed.  She was a succubus.  They could destroy this human form,
but she could make another. “Who has charged this man?” she demanded.

“The high priest.  You have
something to say woman?” the gruff man asked.

“Sister, please, do not make
this trouble for yourself,” Edwin said.

Felicia looked at Edwin and then
turned and left.  She went to find this “high priest.”  She
approached him without fear.

“You hold the power to pardon
Edwin of Kent, do you not?” she asked him boldly.

“Remove yourself woman,” he
said, “Or I will have someone else remove you.”

“I want to barter for his life,”
the dark-haired woman said, “I have gold from Rome.”

She laid out six gold pieces on
the table in front of him and saw his eyes light up with greed, but it wasn’t
enough. It dulled away.

“His life is not for sale,” the
priest said.

“I have more than money to offer
you,” she whispered, leaning over the desk.  She took her cloak off,
showing him her body.  He looked at her with intrigue.

“Turn around,” he said and she
twirled around, her dark curls falling in front of her pale face.

“Is my body worth enough to
spare his life?” she breathed.  She leaned in, her face very close to
his.  When they made eye contact, she knew she had him.  He pulled
the string of her corset, loosening it.

“Undress,” he told her. His eyes
were full of lust, which she fed off of. She kissed him, sucking some of that
energy out of him.  She unbuttoned the top of her tunic.  She pulled
it off and let it fall onto the floor.  Her body was plump, the way men of
those days found beautiful. The priest stood, drawn to her instantly.  He
found her breasts, feeling their weight in his hands.  He kissed her,
forcing her back and onto the desk.  Ink stained her pale skin as his
hands explored her body.

“My body is worth his pardon, is
it not?” she whispered, feeling his desire for her.

“We’ll see how well you please
me,” he said.  He dropped his trousers and proceeded to ravage her plump,
beautiful body.  She drew the lust he felt for her out and took it into
herself.

In the morning, Edwin of Kent was released to find the dark-haired sister he had met waiting for him.

“My dear sister,” he said,
taking her hands, “I feel that I have you to thank for my release.  You
are truly an angel sent from God.”

Felicia raised an eyebrow. 
She was the farthest thing from an angel she could possibly think of.

“We must leave now,” she said,
“In case the priest chooses to change his mind.  I have a horse over
yonder.”

The two rode away from the town.
Months past, and every day Felicia fed from Edwin’s swelling heart, and grew
more and more enamored by him.  Finally one day as they sat together, she
told him.

“Edwin… remember when you said I
was your angel?” she asked.

“Of course, you still are,” the
young man said.

“No… I am not… the truth is, I
could never be your angel,” Felicia said quietly, “I… I am a demon. Oh, but
Edwin, I love you!  I knew the moment I saw you that I did! And… And I
would never do anything to hurt you.  And I’ve never protested your
affinity to God.”

Edwin was shocked.  He
stared at her for a long time before he spoke.

“If you are a demon… why did you
save me?” he asked.

“Because I loved you the moment
I saw you,” she said.

Edwin was faced with a
dilemma.  As a man of God he was to rebuke demons and cast them out, but
he had spent over three months with Felicia and was now madly in love with her.

“I… I cannot turn you away
Felicia,” he admitted, “I am…unhappy that you lied to me, but you are still my
angel and I love you so.”

Leon watched as time sped up and
saw Felicia never aged, but Edwin grew old and died, leaving her sobbing at his
bedside.  Dominique tilted his head up for a moment.

“There is more to see mon amour,”
she told him, “For many years later, I loved another. It was during what you
called the Rennaissance.”

Dominique let a second drop of
blood fall into the water and Leon again gazed into the shaken surface as some
of the water spilled over the edge of the bowl.  The image swirled like
paint.

It was the era of great art. The
dark-haired temptress had moved to the hub of the excitement in Italy.  Her name was Marguerite in those days.  She stood in the nude, posing for
an unknown artist named Alfonso Lavinia.  Marguerite had fallen in love
with Italy in general.  Love was plentiful and easy to come by. 
However, Alfonso was becoming her frequented and favorite artist.

“Are we almost finished for the
day?” she asked, trying not to move, despite an itch on her nose.

“Si, si, mio tesoro bellisima,”
he said, finishing the last details, “Finito!”

Marguerite walked around to the
other side of the canvas and saw her figure captured in oil paints.

“Mmm… Tres bon ma cherie,” she
whispered.

“Marguerite, you are the best
model I have ever worked with,” Alfonso said.

“Kiss me,” she whispered, and he
obliged her, quite willingly.

“I enjoy working with Monsieur
Lavinia,” she whispered as they kissed. Italian men were great romancers. 
He kissed her neck softly, his hand on her waist.

“Marguerite… marry me,” Alfonso
whispered, “I love you so.  Now that the paintings are done… I fear I’ll
never see you again.  Are you going to return to France?  Please, be my wife.  I know I don’t make an enormous amount of money
from my work, but I promise I will take care of you.”

Marguerite’s eyes began to fill
with tears.  She shook her head.

“I… I cannot,” she said.

“But why?” Alfonso asked, “You
love me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do!” the
dark-haired woman said, “That’s why.. I can’t.  I just…”

“Is it because you’re not human
Marguerite?” Alfonso asked. She squeaked in surprise.

“How?  How could you know?”
she began to cry.

“I’ve seen you in paintings from
centuries ago mio tesoro bellisima,” he said, “I was always suspicious. 
But that doesn’t matter to me.  I can tell you’re not malicious and you
love me.  And Marguerite… I love you.  Marry me.”

He held out a simple golden ring.
And she began to cry harder, throwing her arms around him.

“I will marry you Monsieur
Lavinia,” she whispered, “I love you.”

“You will never be lacking love,
bella Marguerite,” he whispered.  He kissed her neck again.  He began
to kiss down her naked body, his fingers sliding down between her legs. 
Making love was their usual pastime after a painting session, but it seemed
more passionate than ever before.

“Ah… Alfonso…” she
shivered.  She gasped more sharply as she felt his mouth on her
breasts.  He proceeded to suckle like an infant upon her breasts, causing
panting and moans to escape her mouth.  All the while his hand was busy
between her legs.

“Mmm… you make my love juices
flow mon amour,” she whispered shakily, “Make love to me Alfonso.  It is your
love that keeps me alive.”

“My beautiful bride,” he
whispered, “If that is true, then you shall have more love than you can
handle.  I will love you every moment for the rest of my life, so you will
never die.”

Leon saw their wedding.  He
saw her sincerity, and how absolutely in love they were. He saw Leon age to an old man, and die at age 63.  He looked up at Dominique who was
standing, looking away with tears in her eyes.  Reliving the memories was
painful for her.

“Dominique…” he whispered softly, standing
to join her, “You are… alright?”

“No… I miss him…” she
whispered.  She felt Leon’s arms wrap around her gently.

“Pardonnez-moi,” he whispered, “I
did not mean to make you think of painful things.”

They were silent for what seemed
like an eternity until Leon spoke again, “You really did love him, didn’t you?”

“More than anything,” Dominique
said, rubbing her eyes.

“But… how can you love me?” Leon asked.

“I love your heart Leon,” she said, “I can feel how much love you give to everyone and that is what attracts
me.  I promise you will be happy; if you only would give yourself to me.”

Leon looked unsure, looking down at
her tear-stained face.

“You saw how I cared for my
lovers.  I will never let anything happen to you mon amour,” she whispered,
leaning up and kissing along his jawline.

Leon couldn’t resist her charms
anymore and began to kiss back.  He kissed beneath her ear and she smiled,
breathing in deeply.

“We’re not having sex in a chapel,”
he whispered in her ear.  Dominique had to laugh.