PRIMAL REQUIEM EXCERPT

Okay, I know it's been a while since I posted something excerpt-ish, so for anyone interested in reading, here's a bit from my upcoming Aphrodite's Apples collection title Primal Requiem.

The First Movement:
Raenos's Regret



Knuckles dripped red. Lamplight flashed from a blade, and his dark irises. Heat built, behind him in the fireplace and within. The rhythm pulsed in his ears, his heart, his soul. Sweat stung his eyes. He pushed back wavy, jet hair and wiped the sweat away, leaving behind a blood-and-sawdust smear. He turned the hand-carved box, examined his craftsmanship--it was nearly done. The tool slipped, its honed edge cutting deep into his hand. His palm now bled, too, the sanguine stain soaking into the raw wood. He smiled, pristine white fangs exposed beneath his lips.

Raenos bled, and it was good.

The blood fell, fat drop by fat drop, to sizzle and steam on the surface as it soaked into the fibers. He watched that poison pour from his vein, and allowed its memories to flood him.

He could see that fire, so very long ago, and the villagers circling it. Lilitu appeared from the shadows, clothed like a goddess and dancing like sin. She was a succubus, beautiful and bewitching, and he felt certain she would be the death of him. He was right--she took his blood, took his life and made him Upyr. She was, however, only a piece to his pained puzzle; she was a dark angel with a darker gift. He eagerly plunged into the fresh passions flowing in his veins, the next few hundred years became a bloody blur, until he found a soul that could touch his again.

Only this time she was human and he was the killer.

She was stunning, sassy yet sophisticated--Sasha warmed his bed, and his heart. Their steamy nights gave rise to new passions within him and he grew to love her deeply. Yet, now she lay upon his bed, her fiery red hair in stark juxtaposition to her pale white countenance. Crimson trailed across her throat like a choker necklace, but he knew better. That red line was her life essence, the spillover from what he had so greedily stolen. If she could wake, she had only death to look forward to. If she did not wake, he hoped her death dreams were not of him, her lover gone mad with blood lust.

Raenos heart pounded its primal rhythm, an echoed back-beat of pain. He had loved her too much--in his fervor, he had loved her to death. He turned back to his work, what was meant to be a betrothal gift for Sasha. His shoulders sank, a tear fell to thin the coating of blood. He stowed away his carving tools, cleared the workbench of clutter and then brought out sheets of gold leaf and paints. Raenos worked with a delicate touch, pressing the gold leaf deep into the detailed carving. His heart pounded in that condemned cadence, pushing hurt and loss through his veins, yet he kept a steady hand as he stroked the paint across the surface.

The box glistened, a beautiful receptacle for the powerful emotions he poured into it. His slit wrist dripped, pumping blood in rhythm with his vampire heart and that blood soaking into the unfinished interior.

Impatience exuded from him, metered out in his pacing as he watch the moon's path--the night was almost over. The paint was still tacky when he picked it up again, but the gold-leafed edges were solid and safe. He used them to brace the box as he fixed the felt lining down. The glue mixed with the iron scent of his blood, giving off a dizzying fume. He sat in his chair only a moment before resuming his pacing. The moon's lip kissed the edge of the tree tops when Raenos took up the music mechanism and the blade.

"Libera me, Domine, de morte æterna, in die illa tremenda, quando coeli movendi sunt et terra," he whispered. "Dum veneris judicare sæculum per ignem."

Then he repeated his personal requiem in Sasha's language, so that she could hear his liturgy if life remained in her. "Free me from eternal death upon that terrible day," He sobbed, wiped away fresh tears and then finished the refrain, "when thou comest to judge the world with fire."

Then, Raenos plunged the blade deep into his chest, cleaving the cavity's surface. The misguided blade severed vessels and pierced a lung, the air wheezing through the ragged cut as he struggled.

"Libera me, Domine, de morte æterna."

Blood trickled from his mouth when he spoke, but then gushed when he drove the blade home. The sharpened edge cut deep into the pumping muscle, that organ which ever played his eternal tune of torment. The immortal rhythm faltered. Blood deluged the box which he clutched to his chest with one arm. With the other arm, he twisted the buried blade.

"Dum veneris judicare sæculum per ignem."

Raenos stowed the dagger in a sheath at his waist and sank to his knees. He placed the box upon the floor, fished the musical mechanism from the sanguine spill within. Tears fell as he poured off the excess blood from its depths; he cared not to encapsulate his sanguine shame, only the last of his life blood would be kept. Fingers faltered as he removed the key then, he nestled the music box in the corner, and reinserted the key from the outside.

**copyright 2006, Savannah Jordan**