Lovingly Dead

Lovingly Dead
She licked the blade clean, the blood still warm to her tongue. Her fangs glistened wetly from where she punctured his neck. She was filled with pleasure, his life force mending into hers. And yet, she was overwhelmed with guilt and sadness. She always did, which turned her on more, knowing that her beloved would find his way back to her once again. Sometimes they spent a thousand years together, other times, fleeting moments. That was the way of it - their eternal struggle for immortality and love. Neither ever won. Was it her who died last time, or was it him? She could never remember and for that she was glad, the longer she waited the better it felt. 

As he laid on the ground, his blood pooling around him, his face graying, she couldn't help but wonder when she could see him next. She hoped her lust for immortality was quenched and she could embrace his love. Secretly, she wished she could die next -- the first time meeting him in a new life was her favourite. The lust was more pure, more intense. More exciting. She would look forward to the day the decision was made.