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Sparse details start coming back to you as your curiosity increases. You don't remember, but you seem to think you were on top. You remember the taste of the whiskey, however, quite clearly, including the intensity of the cool burn. You also remember another taste. For some reason, you remember the taste of cherry in your mouth, and also... something salty... sweat, perhaps? You're unsure, but you know exactly where to find your answer. Your lover, whomever he might be, might provide some insight, provided he wasn't as drunk as you. You grab your bed covers, and pull them over. Sleeping soundly is...

''No, it can't be!'' you gasp in your mind.

A young woman is sleeping before you, just as unclothed as you. She has red hair like fire, and a lithe body not befitting a raider. You realise you have no idea who she is. More to the point, why she's in your bed. Not to mention, last you checked, you much preferred a thick cock pumping your pussy to the gentle caress a woman's likely to provide. You've no idea why drunk-you would disagree on that point. Nevertheless, you've now got much of your curiosity sated. Her smudged lipstick is very likely to blame for the cherry taste you remember. You wipe your mouth and look at you hand. Her red lipstick stains your skin.

Your drunken lover suddenly begins to stir. Her eyes flutter open, and she smiles at the sight of you. You're taken aback by the primal lust you feel at the mere sight of eyes. They're the deepest green you could imagine, like a pair of finely cut emeralds with a light shone through them.

"Madam Mercy..." she purrs. "Perhaps it was more like madam, comma, mercy. Either way, I suppose. I was still screaming your name in the end."

"Then we did...?" you ask.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten, sweetie. I'll never forget it. I've never been so roughly mushed before. You know how to make a girl scream, baby."

"I've never been one to do half a job," you say. "Now, tell me. Who the hell are you?"

The girl smiles. She pulls down the covers, revealing the whole of her beautiful self to you. She's the kind of beauty men fight wars over.

"I found out, last we talked, that you prefer the answer to that question when you see the value of a kind reaction to it," she says. "I am Lucy Castle, and I bite when I fuck."

Lucy Castle is a name you know. It's from an old legend. A young woman called Lucy went missing for one-hundred years, only to return to her family home with fangs and a lust for blood. The legend then goes one of two ways. Some stories tell it that she murdered all of her living relatives, draining them of their blood. Others say she fucked every girl senseless, drinking their blood but not draining it, and that she let the men watch. Either way, if the woman before you is who she says she is, you've a genuine vampire on your hands. You're not sure whether that makes her scary or hot. For you, there's rarely a distinction, but since this woman may well kill you, you're a little apprehensive. You decide to touch your hand to your neck. There are two little scabs exactly where you'd expect a vampire to strike.

Do you…

*[[Attempt to kill the vampire (Fantasy Creatures)|Attempt to kill the vampire]]? — She bit you, and you know the only cure for vampirism is to kill the head vampire.

*[[Let your guard down (Fantasy Creatures)|Let your guard down]]? — You always did prefer a little bite to your sexlife. Who says that can't be literal?


[[Category: Fantasy Creatures]]