Read Online Blood Dragons (Rebel Vampires Book 1) by Rosemary A Johns - Free Book Online
Authors: Rosemary A Johns
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antelope. Then we let him drop to the orange shagpile.
I sighed as his blood mingled with the others’: the magical mix popping in my bloodstream. A blood rush overload.
When I swayed, Ruby steadied me. Her nut was on my chest, listening to the thundering beat of my heart.
I glanced around the Rocker’s room: at the combs, keys and Brylcreem on the dressing table and his clobber stuffed in a scruffy suitcase. I bagged his still smouldering fag from the glass ash tray, taking a deep drag. As I flicked the ash off the tip, I noticed a ten inch record sticking out underneath the Rocker’s twisted body.
When I disentangled myself from Ruby, I slipped the LP out. I wiped off the smears of blood with my fingertips; music should be treated with respect.
“The Sound of Fury” by Billy Fury and THE FOUR JAYS.
The bloke on the front was a dead cool Rocker with pompadour hair. I liked the look of him, so edging the LP out of its jacket, I dropped it onto a record player, which balanced next to the messy bed.
As soon as the needle touched the vinyl, Ruby and me were hit by a raw vocal and guitar, which only made the blood in us move the more, until we were ripping at each other’s threads. We tripped over the corpse, as we stumbled to the bed. Then we were rolling naked in its filth, lost in each other and the moment because that’s what it’s like: blood.
Real blood. First Lifer.
It’s everything, and you’re everything but in that second only. So you’ve got to take it. Ride it. Live it…
The music built its rhythm - our bodies’ rhythms against and inside each other - spun a web for our world, where nothing else existed. Ruby threw me on my back, holding me down as she snogged me.
Bugger she was strong .
I rolled onto her. Our thighs were hot, entangled. Then we were feasting on each other. First the sweet agony of Ruby’s bite on my chest, and then I suckled from her pure white throat.
Our venom, perfect design in all things, heightens the pleasure; when taken natural in small doses it isn’t toxic to our own.
Isn’t evolution a hell of a thing ?
And our blood? It makes yours seem as water is to wine. It’s like the world’s singing: a choir of dirty angels. To Ruby, it’s close to Sacrament. That’s why I didn’t get to taste often but when I did? I achieved the only true moments in a whole century of Blood Life, of total peace.
Why? Because it makes you complete.
Is that happiness?
I’ll tell you something, it’s not hell.
At last, Ruby pushed me away, lapping the last blood from my wounds, up my chest, to my neck and then my mouth.
Then it all started over again…
In the morning, as we lay sprawled starkers in the silent hotel, the curtains firmly closed, we heard the brawling start up again outside.
Bollocks vampire myth… What am I even up to now? Look, we can be awake in the daytime, we’re just knackered because we’ve been up the entire night. You can pull an all-nighter if you have to, can’t you? That’s classic vampire prejudice, seeped into public consciousness or culture, that’s what that is. I’d say Blood Lifer but then First Lifers don’t even know we exist because we’re camouflaged.
So between kips, we’d spent the day wandering the corridors of the now deserted hotel ( no vacancies sign up, of course), whilst I messed around with my new camera, which really was a blinding little piece of equipment.
We’d been listening out for broadcasts on a transistor radio, which we’d discovered in the kitchen, once we’d stepped over the stiff corpse of the proprietor, about how the Mods and Rockers were still going at it, like a bad repeat. It was as if they hadn’t learnt a thing from yesterday.
Or maybe like it’d been as much of a game to them, as it’d been to us.
‘Naughty boys are foolish indeed to behave so,’ Ruby had held the radio close to her cheek, her nails clawing so tight around it, I thought she’d snap it. ‘See how lessons do not seed
I sighed as his blood mingled with the others’: the magical mix popping in my bloodstream. A blood rush overload.
When I swayed, Ruby steadied me. Her nut was on my chest, listening to the thundering beat of my heart.
I glanced around the Rocker’s room: at the combs, keys and Brylcreem on the dressing table and his clobber stuffed in a scruffy suitcase. I bagged his still smouldering fag from the glass ash tray, taking a deep drag. As I flicked the ash off the tip, I noticed a ten inch record sticking out underneath the Rocker’s twisted body.
When I disentangled myself from Ruby, I slipped the LP out. I wiped off the smears of blood with my fingertips; music should be treated with respect.
“The Sound of Fury” by Billy Fury and THE FOUR JAYS.
The bloke on the front was a dead cool Rocker with pompadour hair. I liked the look of him, so edging the LP out of its jacket, I dropped it onto a record player, which balanced next to the messy bed.
As soon as the needle touched the vinyl, Ruby and me were hit by a raw vocal and guitar, which only made the blood in us move the more, until we were ripping at each other’s threads. We tripped over the corpse, as we stumbled to the bed. Then we were rolling naked in its filth, lost in each other and the moment because that’s what it’s like: blood.
Real blood. First Lifer.
It’s everything, and you’re everything but in that second only. So you’ve got to take it. Ride it. Live it…
The music built its rhythm - our bodies’ rhythms against and inside each other - spun a web for our world, where nothing else existed. Ruby threw me on my back, holding me down as she snogged me.
Bugger she was strong .
I rolled onto her. Our thighs were hot, entangled. Then we were feasting on each other. First the sweet agony of Ruby’s bite on my chest, and then I suckled from her pure white throat.
Our venom, perfect design in all things, heightens the pleasure; when taken natural in small doses it isn’t toxic to our own.
Isn’t evolution a hell of a thing ?
And our blood? It makes yours seem as water is to wine. It’s like the world’s singing: a choir of dirty angels. To Ruby, it’s close to Sacrament. That’s why I didn’t get to taste often but when I did? I achieved the only true moments in a whole century of Blood Life, of total peace.
Why? Because it makes you complete.
Is that happiness?
I’ll tell you something, it’s not hell.
At last, Ruby pushed me away, lapping the last blood from my wounds, up my chest, to my neck and then my mouth.
Then it all started over again…
In the morning, as we lay sprawled starkers in the silent hotel, the curtains firmly closed, we heard the brawling start up again outside.
Bollocks vampire myth… What am I even up to now? Look, we can be awake in the daytime, we’re just knackered because we’ve been up the entire night. You can pull an all-nighter if you have to, can’t you? That’s classic vampire prejudice, seeped into public consciousness or culture, that’s what that is. I’d say Blood Lifer but then First Lifers don’t even know we exist because we’re camouflaged.
So between kips, we’d spent the day wandering the corridors of the now deserted hotel ( no vacancies sign up, of course), whilst I messed around with my new camera, which really was a blinding little piece of equipment.
We’d been listening out for broadcasts on a transistor radio, which we’d discovered in the kitchen, once we’d stepped over the stiff corpse of the proprietor, about how the Mods and Rockers were still going at it, like a bad repeat. It was as if they hadn’t learnt a thing from yesterday.
Or maybe like it’d been as much of a game to them, as it’d been to us.
‘Naughty boys are foolish indeed to behave so,’ Ruby had held the radio close to her cheek, her nails clawing so tight around it, I thought she’d snap it. ‘See how lessons do not seed
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