When Love Bleeds in the Dark PART Two

Her Kiss Tasted Like Sin and Eternity


I spent the next three days trying to convince myself she wasn’t real.

That she was a projection—
a fantasy born from loneliness, exhaustion, and too much imagination.

But my body betrayed me.

Because my lips still burned where hers had touched them.
Because my pulse still raced whenever I closed my eyes.
Because the scent she left behind—dark incense and something unmistakably metallic—lingered in my thoughts like a curse.

You don’t forget a kiss like that.

You survive it.
Barely.


---

I returned to the club the very next night.

And the night after that.

Same black door.
Same red light pulsing like a warning.

But she wasn’t there.

The music felt hollow without her presence. The shadows felt emptier. The beauty around me suddenly seemed artificial, almost desperate, as if the place itself was pretending.

I asked the bartender about her.

He stared at me too long before answering.

“Some people come here once,” he said slowly, “and never again.”

“Does she?” I asked.

He wiped the glass in his hand.
“Depends on whether she wants to be found.”


---

I should have taken that as my cue to leave.

Instead, I stayed.

I drank.
I waited.
I listened.

That’s when I felt it.

Not her touch—
but her gaze.


---

She was seated in the far corner, half-hidden behind a curtain of shadow. She hadn’t been there a moment ago. Or maybe she had, and my eyes simply refused to acknowledge her absence.

This time, she smiled first.

A slow, knowing curve of her lips.

“You came back,” she said when I approached.

“I didn’t have a choice.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You always have a choice.”

“No,” I said quietly. “Not after you.”


---

She laughed softly.

The sound was intimate. Dangerous.

“Sit,” she said.

I obeyed without thinking.

That should have frightened me.

It didn’t.


---

Up close, she was even more unreal.

Her eyes shifted subtly in the low light—not in color, but in depth. Like looking into water so dark you couldn’t see the bottom. Her skin was cool when our arms brushed, unnaturally so, yet it sent heat rushing through me.

“You’ve been thinking about me,” she said.

It wasn’t a question.

“Constantly.”

“Good,” she replied. “That means the bond is forming.”

The word bond settled in my chest, heavy and unfamiliar.

“What bond?” I asked.

She leaned closer. Her breath was cold against my neck.

“The kind that doesn’t ask permission.”


---

She took my hand this time.

There was no electricity—
there was gravity.

An irresistible pull, dragging me closer, deeper.

“I warned you,” she whispered. “Some kisses don’t end.”


---

Outside, the night welcomed us again.

The city felt different now—
quieter, darker, like it was watching.

We walked faster this time, urgency threading between our steps.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Somewhere honest,” she said. “Where you can’t pretend you don’t want this.”


---

Her apartment was high above the city, tucked inside an old building with narrow stairs and no elevator. The walls were lined with paintings—dark, romantic, unsettling. Lovers embracing. Lovers bleeding. Lovers frozen in moments that felt eternal.

Candles lit the space. No modern lights.

“You live like this?” I asked.

“I live like I remember,” she replied.


---

She turned to face me.

Up close, the hunger in her eyes was no longer subtle.

“You’re trembling,” she said.

“I’m not afraid.”

Another lie.

But fear had become irrelevant.


---

Her hands slid up my chest slowly, deliberately, as if learning the shape of me. Her touch was exploratory, reverent—yet predatory.

“You feel time differently,” she murmured. “So fragile. So fast.”

“What are you?” I asked.

She paused.

Smiled.

“A woman who has loved too long.”


---

Her lips met mine again.

This kiss was not gentle.

It was consuming.

Her mouth claimed mine with intention, her body pressing closer, her hands gripping as if afraid I might vanish.

I tasted her this time.

Not blood—
but something darker.

Ancient.


---

I pulled back, breathless.

“Why does this feel like I’m losing myself?”

Her forehead rested against mine.

“Because you are,” she whispered. “And part of you is relieved.”


---

She led me to the bed.

The sheets were black silk. Cold. Inviting.

She straddled me, her movements slow, deliberate, hypnotic.

“This is where it changes,” she said. “Once we cross this line, there is no return.”

I searched her face.

“Tell me the truth,” I said. “All of it.”

Her expression softened—not with mercy, but with sorrow.

“If I tell you,” she replied, “you’ll still choose me. And that would be crueler than silence.”


---

Her mouth moved to my neck.

My body tensed instinctively.

She stopped.

“May I?” she asked.

The question shattered me more than force ever could.

“Yes.”


---

Her lips brushed my skin.

A whisper of a touch.

Then—

Pain.

Sharp. Brief.

Intimate.

I gasped.

She froze instantly, pulling away.

Blood stained her lips.

Her eyes—

They were no longer human.


---

Fangs.

There was no denying it now.

“No,” I breathed. “This isn’t real.”

She moved away from me like I was made of glass.

“It is,” she said. “And I tried to stop it.”


---

My heart thundered.

Fear finally arrived—late, but overwhelming.

“You’re a—”

“A vampire,” she finished calmly.

The word echoed in the room like a verdict.


---

She knelt in front of me, eyes filled with something dangerously close to remorse.

“I feed carefully,” she said. “Never enough to kill. Never without consent.”

I laughed weakly.

“This is insane.”

“And yet,” she replied, “you’re still here.”


---

I was.

Because despite the fear, despite the impossibility of it all—

I felt alive.

More alive than I ever had.


---

She wiped the blood from her lips.

“If you leave now,” she said, “this can still end.”

I stood slowly.

Walked toward her.

“And if I don’t?”

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“Then you belong to the night.”


---

I kissed her again.

Harder.

Hungry.

Afraid.

She returned it with a ferocity that shattered the last of my resistance.

That night, love stopped being human.


---

When dawn came, she was gone.

Only a note lay on the pillow:

This is where the danger begins.


Why did loving her feel less like passion… and more like surrendering my soul?


👉 Read Part Three to uncover the full truth of her immortality—and the price of loving the undead.


#FatalAttraction
#EternalLove
#RomanticDarkness