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The shadows tangoed beneath the sheer curtains that floated above the window pane. Icy blues tracked their movement as if something could suddenly form altogether different from what they were at the moment. It was a reality the blonde in the executive office chair dealt with at any moment. The unseen easily becoming a possibility and a battle she would be prepared for because of what and who she was now.

Bare skin adorned with a larger than life permanent mural of color spread from the back of her neck to her hips kissed the warm leather that cradled her. Lethally long legs folded to the side as the moonlight caressed the smooth alabaster surface that was timeless. The endless skin would never appear older than the twenty four years it had been when it had been frozen in time. A kiss was said to be deadly. A bite she never saw coming turned out to be far worse.

Long digits moved slowly with the indulgent stretch a feline would use to flex and extend it’s claws. Each muscle beneath her bare skin tweaked in a visual dance that made its way up her arms and into her shoulders. In unison the joints rolled back and her head tipped to the right then to the left. Her fingers relaxed and left nothing to focus on except for the single band that curled around her lean pale finger. Softly the pad of her thumb nudged it to move with the push downward towards her palm. It was about so much more than what could ever be seen.

The band was a symbol of what had more value than any ring, paper or ritual could ever contain, validate or convey. She had learned that over time. Three years and counting. It was definitely brief compared to the possibility of an eternity but it left its mark beyond any sparkle on her otherwise plain fingers, the laws she lived by planted on her back or the ink that was a testament to where she stood. The reasons why were solid within. The gnawing awareness gripped her to the core. Her skin absorbed the comfort of the leather supporting her back and it was then the heat of how she had arrived came back to her. It was as if she had walked into a wall of fire and only then woke for the first time. Unpainted lids sank slowly over the top of her icy blues and she surrendered to her the tidal wave of reflections that slowly consumed her.

Silver Argent. The vampire was a tall, ancient walking nightmare to any female partying the night away at the wrong place and the most convenient time. The disarming and disturbingly charming male was the delivery man of the dead zone that would soon claim Abigail Sutton before she had a chance to make her case.

For all the time spent in the courtroom while rising in the ranks of east coast legal eagles she was completely unprepared for what would be changing her bittersweet world eternally. To a creature that had lingered through a couple centuries it was another quick fix. To Abigail it was an unwelcomed, unplanned interlude that left a bad after taste and an alley full of regrets she was given the mercy of not being able to recall. There were no lessons on what she had been brought into. No offers of choice or what could or would be. Her discarded form that was left among the empty produce and citrus crates in the alley was all that remained for proof it ever happened at all. The scent of sweat, whiskey and summer night air presently filled her as she recalled the first sensation of asphalt beneath her when she woke as one of the walking dead.

It was an assault of all that was harsh, terrifying and undeniable. Dulce felt like she had been flattened by a pavement roller. Adding to that theory was the sampling of several years of inner city dirt on her lips as she pulled them free while lifting up her head. There was no sign of what hit her. Much later it would make sense to her but not at that moment. This was her first introductions to the world she had no clue existed. It was unforgettable. Exploding on the tip of her tongue, across her lips and looming over her unprepared back. Dirty, sinful and beyond any act of wrong she ever tried to prosecute in the courtroom. Because of it her insides were on fire and her hunger was so intense she was sure she was starving to death. She had no clue she was already dead.

July 2011

It was not half as easy as one would expect to walk around new to immortality. First lesson learned was that even a good pair of stolen sunglasses wasn’t enough protection from the dangers of the sun. Dulce woke in the street sizzling like a chicken thigh on a grill that was ready to be flipped. She could literally hear her flesh, dead as it was, hissing at the assault. She screamed in horror, running like a cockroach searching for darkness. The scent was awful. The pain was unbelievable to endure. She clenched her jaw and sat down in the sewer entrance and wondered what the hell was going on.

Voices echoed softly in the dark. The darkness held sounds of hissing whispers and squeaking of rats succumbing to something that should scare her but by then it didn’t. Such surrounded her as she sat curled in a dank dark corner pondering how to relieve the unfathomable hunger that was luring her to entertain thought of consuming in great portions. Sating the pain in the most concerning ways seemed to haunt her as she sat in limbo between what she never had a chance to fight and the hell that it delivered her to.

Days were gone. She slept through them, strung out and drained of any energy to do anything. Nightfall stirred her to semi-consciousness and only then she would wander out, finding the city full of more than she expected. She was dazed by the aromas and sounds around her. Everything was heightened, sharper and stronger than before. She felt insane for doing it but after nights of thinking of everything to cling to a sense of civility, she finally snapped and gave in to what curled and tied her insides into painful knots.

The first feeding. It was slow but predictable. Like the beat of a mortal heart. Deep rhythmic beats that thumped like a mellow drum. She felt them as if it was in her own skin. So much so that her long arms folded across her waist and beneath her fingertips she confirmed there was no pulse. Not within her anyways. Even that was a passing and less threatening reality. The pain in her insides were growling to be nourished. Her mouth was dry, thirst was lining every inch of her throat. She wasn’t parched. This was an insane thirst that has her scanning back and forth as she dashed in millisecond steps to cover blocks to stalk what she found impossible to resist.

Heat from the skin was easy to feel in the path of air that the male left behind him. It flowed across her face as she stepped into its current, literally a breath behind him if she had one left to offer. She could taste the Armani and white imported linen wrapping his body. It was like the flesh she used to dance against, eat with, sleep with. It was that familiar. Like the scent of pine reminds most of a winter holiday. However, now there was a clear separation of her and that world of warm clean skin and celebration. She pulled her hair back and felt the increase of interest and ravenous appetite had her come to a stop two feet in front of him. He turned to look behind him as if he heard the approach and found nothing but her tall form in front of him as he turned back around.

There was no pleasantries, no introduction. Just a tangle of white linen and long blonde hair swirling into the wall and into the shop. Screams sounded and before she could think if it was the male in her hands or a witness she took a handful of hair and struck with a bite of blinding white. The hot fluid was intoxicating as it hit her mouth. She swallowed and sucked oblivious to anything but getting more. The screaming was growing louder. Yelling started and chaos raised its voice. She couldn’t ignore the sense of danger rising. She dropped the body and ran. Her pace fast, her surroundings a blur until she came to rest back in the darkness where she came from. As she wiped her mouth she felt the rush of relief from the pain that had dominated her for far too long. Then and there she knew that would happen again. Wherever she was there no turning back from what she was becoming.

Dulce Periculum certainly was starting out as a candidate for the poster child for ‘Haste makes waste’. Plucked from humanity and discarded for a momentary sating of otherworldly appetites a mess was certainly left behind in Silver Argents footsteps out of the alley. Once again he left an even larger risk for the immortal world to deal with. The world around her took notice as she moved, errored and failed. Awareness rose that she was a threat. Bounty lists claimed her. She was again hunted this time to empty her cold veins of every drop of threat that she posed to those who gave a care as to what the future would be.

This first experience was ingrained into her. Such power that was responsible for her walking among the nearly dead was to be one to be accountable for. Reckless siring and creating what you will not be responsible for is one of the greatest risks to world she had been thrust into. Silver Argent had taught her nothing but those who hunted her down surely had and left a lesson in their weapon’s wake.