Hunted Ch. 07

Disclaimer: This novella generally contains content of nonconsent/reluctance, bdsm, and gothic themes like vampires, bloodplay, and demons. I understand these are not common fetishes, so if you are offended by any of the above, please hit the back button on your browser now... Still reading? Then I hope you enjoy the product of the dirty little corner of my imagination.

-DannyGirl

*

Darrien takes a handful of dirt from the ground, holding it up closely to his nose and sniffing it carefully. The scent he's tracking seems to be getting fainter, and he frowns at this revelation: He had been following the scent all night from Samantha's old church and was hoping it would lead him to the one who had burned it to the ground.

Oh well, he muses: He was drawing near a small southern town, and he may as well see if the culprit had left any evidence here. Within minutes, he moves into the town, still following the scent, to a burned down home.

Okay, there is definitely a pattern here: Whoever did this certainly liked to burn down things. But who was doing this? Samantha seemed devout in her belief that it was Monica who killed the hunters she once called comrades and took her vengeance on the church she once called home for so much of her life. But this new revelation certainly cast doubt on that theory: What grudge would Monica have on a small town home?

"Excuse me?" the voice of a middle-aged woman calls out to him, cutting through his concentration. He turns to face her as she carefully approaches him with a scowl on her face. She must be some kind of over-vigilant neighborhood watch, ever spying out her window as opposed to minding her own business, foolishly checking up on a suspicious looking individual loitering just outside her home. Darrien considers her as a snack for a moment, but thinks better of it: He must really visit his beloved slave sometime soon, for he grows thirsty.

The woman peers at him, then upon getting a decent look at him her scowl changes to a pleasant smile: Something about Darrien's white hair and deep wisdom-filled eyes show him to be a distinguished and handsome individual, despite his youthful good looks. Of course, this is a perk to being a vampire, everything about his appearance is meant to draw in his victims. "Can I help you with something there, stranger?" she smiles alluringly at Darrien, thinking herself to be something of an old cougar.

"What happened here?" Darrien gestures towards the wreckage.

The scowl returns on the woman, "Oh, a house fire, nevermind THAT." She draws herself in too close for Darrien's comfort. "I think it's more interesting over at my place..."

Darrien gently pushes her away, "did anyone perish?"

The woman frowns, disappointment coloring her expression. "No, unfortunately."

"Whatever do you mean?" Darrien forces a fake smile, his patience being tested with this woman.

"Well, just between you and me," she draws in close, this time to whisper but taking advantage of the situation regardless. Darrien musters the contact. "A witch lived there. I bet she burned down her house doing some dark ritual. She's a heathen I say!"

"Do you know where this witch is now?"

"What do you..." the woman trails off as she peers at him suspiciously, the rusty cogs in her head turning, "Oooh! Your into that kind of stuff, aren't you?"

Darrien sighs, rolling his eyes, then grabbing the woman. She starts to cry out but Darrien wrenches her eyes to his, hypnotizing her. "Tell me about the witch," he demands.

"Uh..." she stares ahead blankly, "I hear she joined the convent at the church."

"Now that doesn't sound like something a witch would do now, does it?" Darrien chuckles, taking pleasure in picking at the woman's bigotry.

"Well, no, I guess not," the woman only continues to stare slack-jawed into empty space.

"You will not remember this encounter," Darrien states, and the woman repeats mindlessly. Then, he turns and disappears into the night, off to investigate the church, and leaving the woman to continue drooling out in the middle of the street.

Moving quickly from shadow to shadow he makes his way to the church in a matter of minutes. Studying the architecture of the ancient convent he begins to realize just how old this run down little small town must be. He leaps silently up to an open window on the second story and stealthily creeps in. He muses for a moment about mortal superstitions of how vampires are unable to enter the sanctity of god's house.

He catches the scent he needs, the one he's been following all along, and begins to sneak towards it. He moves into a dark room, lit only by a single candle, to find a nun, kneeling by her bed, deep in prayer. Darrien watches her for a moment, pondering the significance of this woman in all of this.

After a moment or two the woman notices him, and she quickly dashes for a bag at the foot of her bed. She draws a small dagger to defend herself, but she is a mere mortal, and Darrien easily overpowers her and forces the dagger from her.

"Please, don't hurt me," the woman begins to wail, and Darrien covers her mouth forcefully.

"I won't hurt you, just tell me what I wish to know." He holds her steady until she calms down, then carefully releases her.

She stares at him with wide eyes, kind of like a deer caught in headlights, completely tense and not sure if she should fight or flight. Finally, after nearly testing Darrien's patience to the limit, she complies: "Wh-what do you want?" she stutters.

"What happened to your home?"

"HE... burned it down... tried to kill me," she trembles uncontrollably at the thought of her assailant.

"Who?" Darrien presses the question despite her growing dementia.

"I didn't mean to summon him... I didn't know... Samantha..."

"What about Samantha?" Darrien's eyes go wide at the sudden and unexpected mention of his beloved.

"The hunter hated her: HE could use that," tears stream down her face, "But God will protect me!"

Darrien's patience ran out, and so he hypnotized her to be calm and to tell him everything. She told him about her rendezvous with the hunter named Davik. She told him about the seance with the spirits. She tried to summon a spirit who could tell her just what Samantha really was. It turned out she found out more than she could possibly imagine: Samantha was a half demon, and the spirit that was summoned was Samantha's father. The demon possessed Davik and burned down the witch's home.

"What does he want with Samantha?"

"To breed her: To create an army of demons."

Darrien felt the anger bubbling deep down inside of him. Never in the last few centuries had he felt such rage. The only other emotion so strong he had ever experienced would be his love for Samantha.

He had to get to her before this demon did. He couldn't let that monster touch her. He would rather die his second death.

He was out of the church and running towards Samantha as fast as he could before he even realized it. He still feels her, thanks to the rune he had placed on her so that he may track her position at all times. He feels a cold sweat drip down his brow: The night is almost over and he will have to spend the day hiding from the sun. Every second he is apart from her right now felt significant, she is in great danger. He had never encountered a demon before, but he had heard the stories... In fact he is sure that he is rushing towards certain death.

He doesn't run very long before she vanishes. The shock of it is so sudden that he stops dead in his tracks. One moment he could feel her presence, far away albeit, but there, and the next she was gone. Darrien doesn't stop long, he breaks out into a run again, this time even faster. He's surprised because he didn't realize he could run any faster. He supposes, a moment ago she may still have been safe, and now she is definitely not.

At least he knows her last location, he could feel it before she disappeared: the hole of an apartment she moved into recently. His best hope of finding her now was to go there and follow her scent.

He just hopes he will not be too late...

* * *

I groan wearily as I return to consciousness gradually. Despite having slept for what feels like weeks, I awake with every muscle in agony. This probably has something to do with the fact I'm lying on a cold, cement floor.

I slowly pull myself off of the floor, every part of my body crying out as I fight gravity. I take a look around in my half-conscious state, confused: Where am I? I appear to be in some kind of run-down, probably abandoned warehouse. What is it about my life that keeps me coming back to places like this? It's starting to get to be a cliche.

Worse: I'm naked and there is some kind of rune drawn in red paint on the floor around me. ...At least I hope that's red paint. Okay, never mind the part about this starting to be a cliche: I crossed that fine line a long time ago.

A heavy metal door screeches open suddenly, and Davik steps through. Except, he's not Davik: The annoying hunter I once knew has been taken over by an even more annoying demon.

"What did you do to me?" I demand groggily, pinching the bridge of my nose instinctively to try and alleviate the pounding in my head.

He chuckles, "I do apologize for the repeated blows to the head, but it was necessary since you declined to come peacefully."

"I meant after that," I gesture towards my nudity.

"Oh," he grins, "Do not worry about that, I would not begin the fun unless you were present to enjoy it, my dear. I just felt you were more pleasing to look at this way."

"I bet you did," I crack my neck from side to side, starting to feel better already. "Despite your honey-tongued compliments," I quip sarcastically, "I'm still going to kill you."

He pulls up a dusty old plastic chair and takes a seat in it, "Why do you not try and come over to me and say that?"

"I don't know what you think is going to happen here, but if I ever get close to you I'm separating your head from your neck," I threaten him.

"I think you will find that difficult when you cannot leave that barrier rune I placed you in," he gloats. "It keeps angels and demons alike trapped within its bounds."

"You forget I'm neither an angel nor a demon," I gloat as I take a step, moving one foot out of the circle and planting it firmly on the cement outside the circle. "I may be your daughter, but I am also my mother's daughter, and she was human."

My cocky attitude is cut short, however, when I try and move my other foot outside of the circle I find it glued to the floor by some invisible force. "Problem my dear?" he laughs, "Your half-demon my daughter, so you are only half able to leave the circle. Which does you little good I am afraid."

"Well, I'll just wait for you to come to me then," I sneer at him.

"Oh, worry not," he yawns, as if bored by my threats, "that will not be happening either."

"Then what?" my anger begins to melt into frustration, "You'll just stare at me like some kind of freak show? You can't keep me here forever: Darrien will come for me soon."

"Oh I know," he smirks, "that rune he carved into you is of demonic origin, meaning I have providence over it. You cannot sense him anymore can you?" He's right, and he notices the alarm in my expression and that gives him his answer. "But I can, and I happen to know he's on his way." His words bring a smile to my face, I knew Darrien would come for me, and the confirmation of this brings me hope. "I am afraid he will not be here for quite some time however, but on the bright side we will have plenty of time for fun until then."

Suddenly, the room grows dark, well darker anyway: Everything seems to turn to blackness and the only thing I can see is the demon, still sitting in his chair with a big, wide grin on his face. The rune painted on the floor below me begins to glow and pulsate. I gasp as before me opens a hole, I can see a light from inside, fiery and red. Out of the hole climbs a shadow, as black as the darkness all around it, the only reason I can see it at all as it's very presence seems to distort the space around it. It gazes at me with glowing red eyes that seem to pierce my flesh and my very soul. Instinctively, I step backwards, but find myself frozen in place as one foot passes over the rune.

"W-What is this?" I tremble fearfully.

"Demons, like myself and my friend here," Davik starts to yammer on, "we cannot exist in the mortal world for very long I'm afraid. Davik's body is already starting to wither away, and my friend here cannot be here for more than a few hours at a time. But a Demon born in the mortal world would be able to exist here indefinitely! Think of the destruction it would be bring to the mortals!" the demon in Davik's body throws up his arms and exclaims with much glee.

"Born from... me?" I'm almost too afraid to ask the question.

"Yes," he grins, the corner of his lips crawling too far up his cheeks to look natural, "the offspring of a demon and half-blood would be a full demon."

The shadow begins to change shape: It's translucent form becomes one of flesh and blood. It becomes a man, as mortal looking as any other, except not like any man, it becomes the man whom I love more than any in the world: Darrien. I gasp, though, as I gaze into his eyes, they stare back at me with an emptiness not present in my the eyes of my beloved. This is not the man I love, but an illusion, a facsimile. Worse yet, the shadow is completely naked, and his cock is hard, erect, and ready.

"There is no reason you shouldn't enjoy this, my daughter," Davik smiles at me, I'm not sure if it's sincerely or mockingly, "I thought you should at least make love to the man whom you love."

But I know it's not him, and so I steel myself, raising my fists and threatening, however meekly, "Don't touch me! I-I'll kill you!"

Davik only laughs as the spectre stalks towards me slowly. I brace myself for battle, but suddenly an invisible force grabs my wrists and wrenches my arms over my head. It lifts me from my feet and into the air and I kick my legs futilely as the shadow crosses into the rune with me.

Darrien approaches, floating in the air with me, wrapping one arm around my waist gently. I struggle in his hold, trying to fight against his embrace much like the first time I met the real Darrien. He puts a hand on my cheek tenderly, and I find myself gazing into his eyes. Still, I see only emptiness there, this thing is not human, it will never be my Darrien. I tell myself that again and again as it kisses me firmly on the lips, forcing its tongue into my mouth as it kisses me passionately.

I groan against the tender embrace of its lips, as it slides its hand down my back, over my ass, griping it firmly. Its kiss tastes sweet, like honey, and as much as I try to fight it, I cannot help but enjoy the taste. I feel a warmth spreading from my mouth, slowly down my throat, spreading over my entire body. With each passing moment it gets harder and harder to think clearly and I realize, hazily, that this thing is affecting me somehow, drugging me maybe.

It moves a hand to my nether-lips, brushing lighting against my labia, and a spark jolts through me entire body. Suddenly, I am lost: All I can see before me is Darrien, the pleasure takes control and I cannot help but take comfort in the fact that it at least looks like Darrien.

I catch myself moaning as Darrien playfully teases my clitoris. Some part of my mind, a part that is shrinking rapidly by the second, rebukes me for taking pleasure in this. I feel his cock pressing up against my thigh and every ounce of my being wishes for him to penetrate me deeply. After all, I have missed him so.

But he's not... Or is he? Where am I?

I am in his arms, the only place I ever wish to be. Every part of my body tingles as if I am very, deeply inebriated, but the feeling is pure euphoria. My mind cannot form a coherent thought, but I simply cannot bring myself to care.

His lips suckle my breasts, his tongue licks slowly up my neck. My arms, now free, wrap around his muscular, naked form. I dig my nails into his back, the pleasure driving me on like a wild animal.

"Please! Fuck me!" I cry out in pure lust.

And so he does, he guides his cock towards my most center, slowly sliding in, filling me completely. I cry out with satisfaction as I feel him so deeply inside me. I wrap my legs around his, grinding against him, eager to feel the pleasure I so desperately crave. He suckles my neck with his glorious lips. I even feel a pain of disappointment as he doesn't drive his fangs into my flesh to suck my blood, but instead locks his lips with mine once again.

I kiss him eagerly, biting at his lower lip, moaning softly as he pumps into me slowly, steadily. Then he begins to fuck me quicker and quicker until he is pounding into me furiously. The sound of his skin slapping against mine only spurs me on as I bite at his neck. Oh, how I wish I could feel such immense pleasure always, the coming tingle signalling an approaching orgasm.

With a loud, bestial, groan he reaches his climax, and I can feel his hot seed shooting into my core. The sheer feel of it accelerates my own orgasm, and I soon feel my own sweet climax shoot through me like electricity.

I fall back, completely spent, hitting nothing, falling back on only air. I wonder for a moment if its because I'm completely inebriated or if I'm actually floating. I seem to remember being lifted off the ground by something... And the thought is gone. My mind is fleeting, unable to hold a thought for more than a moment.

Darrien looms over me still, nothing but lust in his eyes now. His cock still hard and erect. He has not had his fill, and so he grabs me forcefully by the waist pulling me to him. He guides his cock into my pussy again, this time forcefully, and the shock of it sends an immense wave of pleasure through my body.

And so it begins again, and when we both orgasm, yet again. He never shows any sign of stopping, rather he holds onto a stamina beyond anything imaginable. Each time he shoots his entire load into me, as if he has to ensure I get pregnant... Again, I cannot hold onto the thought for more than a fleeting moment.

I feel my body grow weak as we continue, and I wonder which one of us will expire from pure pleasure and exhaustion first, but I know it will be me. The thought flashes through my mind too quick to ponder on it for any amount of time: Will I die like this? If so, I cannot bring myself to care.

There is only the pleasure...