begins-with-an-absence-of-desire:
Matthew and Philippe hurried after her. Matthew saw Juliette and knew she’d done something terrible. “What did you do?” He growled at the female vampire as his eyes started to go black.
Juliette pouted like a guilty puppy when confronted by her lover. The scent of fresh blood clung to her like perfume and small flecks of red stained her dress and shoes. “I did it for you, Matthew. She was saying such terrible things about us. And besides, your sister should have no trouble accepting your orders now that she doesn’t have that whore whispering in her ear.” She trailed her hands suggestively down the front of his shirt in an attempt to win him over. “You’re not really mad at me, are you?”
—
Ash knew grave damage had been done even before she stepped foot in the brothel. The scent of Max’s blood hung in the air like a thick fog. No doubt the open windows of her room had allowed it to permeate into the street. When she reached her room, it hit her like a ton of bricks. She almost couldn’t bear to move any further than the doorway. But, after taking a few seconds to compose herself, Ash braved the horrific scene.
Max was on the far side of her room. She had been dropped carelessly on the floor, hidden from the view of any passing her door by the furniture inside. She was lifeless, her skin pallid and eyes glassy. No comforting beat sounding from her chest. A wide pool of blood had spread beneath her and stained the floorboards. A nasty bite adorned the side of her neck. Judging by the crimson mess left behind, its intention was purely for violence, not thirst. But that was not the wound responsible for her death.
Ash felt her legs buckle. She fell to her knees beside her lover, her hands trembling as she cradled her body and pulled her into her lap. As one hand stroked down the length of her hair, she spotted the fatal wound. Max had been stabbed in the heart through her back— but not by any blade. This was the trademark work of a vampire. One with sharpened nails was easily capable of piercing through flesh. It was more painful, less clean, and far more personal than the use of a weapon. Gods know how long Max had lied there suffering, seeping into the wood, before she expired. There was no peace in her death.
“I told you...” Ash leaned her head against Max’s frigid temple, whispering in a broken tone. “I told you to stay away... Why couldn’t you just listen, for once?” Although the other women could not hear her words, Ash needed to speak them. “I should never have left you alone... I’m sorry... I’m so sorry...” An anguished cry echoed into the street. Even the passing humans recognized it as the tragic howl of loss.
