Even lying in bed, the covers pulled up to my neck, I saw him getting closer. Shared his vision. His thoughts. He was coming for me. I could feel it in my bones and not just because his arrival was my greatest fear. My blood was literally calling him. Every beat of my heart was like the sweet bells of a church, luring in the faithful servants of the lord. Luring in him. I was Marko Delacroix’s salvation. His continuation amongst the living dead. But I wouldn’t be for much longer. Tonight I would die. He’d kill me. And then I’d be replaced.
How did I know? Because with every leisurely step closer, he projected more images into my mind of my last breaths. Of my legs and arms intertwined with his as my pulse weakened. Slowed. Stopped. He wanted me afraid, just as much as he wanted to soothe those fears and seduce me when he got inside my home. Oh God, and seduce, he would. My body burned for him as much as I was terrified of the creature who fed from me. He was nothing short of the devil in my mind. A man whose looks and touch could bring the highest pleasure. But one that would ultimately be my demise.
One might wonder why I didn’t run or hide if I knew the end was near. It was simple. I couldn’t. Not only because he could track me down, but because it was physically impossible. I was helpless to flee. With the insertion of his fangs, weeks ago, came something more lethal than any poison to shock my system or make me crave him. It was what happened to my brain. I could think. I could carry on with my routine. Yet, when it came to defying him, my mind wouldn’t allow me to. I was powerless. Under his control.