If one demon of peril would suck the life from me,
And leave me on eternal earth amongst the dim dead and him.
I, a maiden in dire need of love, would accept my doom with arms opened in welcoming.

As he would pace over to my delicate body, he would bend my neck to the right and edge towards my pulsing jugular. His fangs would protrude out of his mouth and prick my skin. Blood scarlet of colour will ooze out, only to be indulged by his thirst.

The venom surging through me, thinning my blood as it moves en route for my pacing heart, only burns as he takes each mouthful.

I fear he will bleed me out, but his groaning – over the taste – pleasures me.

If he could not stop, I don’t think I would mind as much.