Dark Obsession

Discreetly, in the shadow of the crescent moon’s light, he followed her, his footsteps cloaked in fine Italian leather as he moved silently over walkways. So obscure was he, even on a moonlight night, she had as of yet taken no notice even though he had followed her for nigh more than a month. He was captivated, undeniably drawn, like a moth to the flame, though she threatened to engulf him in the blaze of her fire. The tantalizing scent she carried encompassed both his sleep-infused days and the long nights of voracious hunger. He feared there would be no escaping the aroma of her sweetly laced nectar ever again, no matter any distance imposed. Lingering each evening just outside her window as she slept, he tempered the urge to complete the age old act and make her his for all eternity. The realization one viscous act could result in such only made him all the more restless and insatiable.

Just ahead, he observed the innate lightness of foot as she moved along the walkways with her companion. He observed the lilting sway of slim hips as wisps of curls blew all about her slender shoulders, the wind easily carrying the essence of her unique fragrance. He inhaled, savoring the aroma and allowing it to fill his senses as though it was his last meal. He knew another human would never be able to captivate him with such intensity ever again. No, certainly not for Alexandra was no mere mortal - she was a woman both divinely and rapturously made as though just for him.

He heard a ripple of flirtatious laughter drift across the air. Was it something her date said? He watched with wry amusement as she playfully tapped the man’s arm as though chastising him. Normally, the sight of such would have enraged him, but this evening Dante managed to steel himself against any rash or noticeable action. It was important he bide his time well and make a move at the right moment. So he waited, contemplating just who in the hell had thought this insipidus imbecile of a man would pair well with such a lovely creature. Surely, Alexandra must realize the lack thereof in the poor choice made on her behalf.

Exceedingly confident in his own right, Dante was not one to suffer ridiculous jealousies for another of such vast shortcomings. He knew full well that Alexandra’s exhibition of flirtatious banter meant nothing and was used only to soothe the man’s pride. Still, the poor excuse of a man ahead rankled him, edging under his skin like a sharp bladed dagger. It would be a miracle if Dante didn’t annihilate this human for nothing more than merely walking alongside Alexandra. It was easy, however, to read what was in Alexandra’s mind as clearly as if she spoke her thoughts aloud. There was no denying she would abandon this buffoon of a man and leave him high and dry at the door. Ah, but would she be so coy and considerate once confronted with his own ravenous desires? A sardonic smile twisted the corners of his mouth. Likely not.

Dante hung back as the couple slowed, fully masked by the shifting clouds. With eyes as keen as a hawk’s, he peered through the darkness from across the street as the pair paused before a large, ornate entrance way which Dante knew led to Alexandra’s flat. Her date inched closer, reaching to pull her closer in a desire to secure a goodnight kiss – or more. Dante found swift gratification, however, as Alexandra stepped backwards and instead, reached out her hand to give the man a smile of gratitude. The man accepted her outstretched hand and before he could offer protest, she turned, quickly disappearing through the door leading up the stairs to her flat. The rejected suitor shook hung his head, shaking it in disbelief, before turning to head elsewhere.

Be gone, despicable creature and insipid waste of humanity! If Dante's interest had not been drawn elsewhere, he may have very well followed the man and ended his life, but this night, he was inclined to other endeavors. Where he stood hiding in the dim lighting, his instincts hyper-focused on the woman upstairs, who was now safely ensconced in her flat. He knew she had already begun disrobing and running a lavender scented bath. The thought of her in such luring disarray evoked sensual images, and an immediate need for sustenance coursed through him. So intense was the desire coursing through his cold being, if Dante could have shivered in response, he would have done so.

The moon suddenly slipped behind the clouds, darkening the already poorly lit street. In response, Dante’s senses reached a new height of awareness. Someone new approached, began to cross the street, and was heading directly toward him. He silenced a growl born on the wings of anger and frustration. What fool was this? Whomever he was, it appeared he deliberately was making sure Dante heard the sound of each footstep he made upon the cobblestone pavement.

Dante’s black eyes narrowed to slits. Recognition dawned: it was none other than Lucien. Dante would know the innately sour stench emanating from the man anywhere and at any point in time. Had he come to save the day – or perhaps the sweet damsel just now sinking into a steaming bath of hot water in the flat above? Dante scowled at the thought. Despite his good natured, powerful, good ole' golden Nephilim soul, Lucien would not be able to deter him from what he'd set his sights upon. Lucien never had and never would be able to change Dante's hellbent ways despite his best laid plans and intentions. Mayhap it was nigh time to put an end to Lucien's untimely and unexpected intrusions. Yes, maybe it was well beyond time to do so.

Casually, with one hand shoved in his coat's pocket and the other holding the stylish, elaborately carved walking stick he always carried, Lucien strode up to Dante, a smile gracing his handsome visage as though he were meeting an old friend.

“Hello, Dante.” He said with a nod.

“Lucien,” Dante managed with bated breath, mounting irritation and disdain for the main evident. “It’s no surprise to see you. You have a way of always appearing out of nowhere - and at the most inopportune times.” He emphasized the last words he spoke, letting Lucien know his presence was not desired, especially at such a pivotal moment.

Lucien’s smile broadened at the words Dante spoke. He looked down for a moment but when he lifted his head, the smile had vanished, replaced by a look of sheer determination. It was no accident Lucien was there. No, he had a divine purpose - he always did. Dante knew this was no mere game, but something of much more value stemming from higher stakes.

“Time to move on, Dante. Your days, or rather,” Lucien deliberately cleared his throat as though to make his point, “your intended endeavors in this town are over. Done. Finito.”

Dante eyed the man before him with unbridled contempt. The tone of his voice lowered, sizzling across the night air and reflecting the degree of his anger. “You dare tell me what I can or cannot do?”

Without hesitation, Lucien drew nearer until he met Dante at eye level. He cocked a brow, completely unafraid of the darkness in the creature who stood before him. “Indeed, I do,” he said, his tone completely calm in contrast to Dante's.

Anger rose in Dante, an immediate and tangible reaction easily gauged by his sharp features. He tempered the urge to rip Dante’s heart from his body and be done with the immense hatred and frustration this man never failed to incite. His breath came, hard and heavy, with his next words.

“I’ll not leave, Lucien," he said, brooking no room for argument.

Lucien's next words reverberated, their underlying intensity vibrating and hanging in the night air betwixt the two men. “She will not be yours, Dante. She is meant for another.”

The black of Dante’s eyes darkened, marking each word he spoke emphatically. “Be damned, Lucien. You have no power to…..”

“Ah, but you seem to have forgotten, I do,” Lucien interrupted, not allowing the other man to finish his thought. “And thank you, but as I remember, you’re the one to be damned.”

Dante stared at the man in silence with sheer, unadulterated hatred for long moments. At last he spoke, curious as to the other man's true purpose. “We agreed you’d not interfere, so pray tell, what drives this impromptu visit, Lucien? I’ve already decided upon and chosen her, so don’t throw ludicrous comments around when you don't understand the scope of the situation.”

Dante knew that upstairs, the woman of whom they spoke sat soaking in a hot, lavender scented tub of water and was completely relaxed, utterly unaware of the tensions building below. If she had known the depth of the violent emotions escalating between the two men, she may have very well run, even if still naked, through the streets, screaming for help. Thankfully, she remained blissfully ignorant, at least for the moment, oblivious to the fact that in the blink of an eye, everything was about to change.

At Lucien’s continued silence, Dante’s coal black eyes deepened. Lucien was still just as madly infuriating as he'd always been. Some things were always the same. “Just exactly whom do you speak of? Give me a name, and I swear by your God I’ll rip his heart out. He will never have what is mine.”

Lucien took another step forward. He was so close Dante could not only hear his heartbeat but also feel the force of strength in it. “It’s me, Dante. Alexandra is to be mine.”

Surprise flooded, encompassing Dante’s every possible thought. It was him - Lucien? He was the man? This was insanity - sheer madness!

Lucien's laughter interrupted the tension that was mounting. A surreal appearance of some unknown force suffused from his crystal blue eyes, speaking volumes beyond the context of the next words that left his mouth. “So, brother, shall we settle this matter? Here and now?” he asked with confidence.

Dante's reaction was savage as under his breath, he cursed. Lucien be damned.