....And The Night Shall Save Us All....

Author's note: I've been working on this story for a long time....My love affair with the Breed goes back quite a ways. I've been burning to write this tale forever...And although I genuinely hope you like it, I truly do, I'll just leave you with the words of the great Iggy Pop. "If you like it, great....If you don't....Fuck You."
Some things you just have to do for yourself.

She had skin as pale and pure as alabaster….
Her hair, so black it seemed to draw the light into the oblivion of its midnight depths….And her eyes….Pale yellow, star-bright , capable of piercing to the core and holding you there….
Now, as Peloquin reached for her, those eyes were half-lidded, heavy with unspoken erotic promises. Pale pink lips parted just slightly, just so….Delicate red tongue a flicker behind curving white fangs….
She moved towards him, slender arms extended, eyes flaring, and he smiled in anticipation. Long, dextrous fingers twirled, like ghosts in the darkness, ever closer to his crimson skin….
She stops suddenly, as if reaching the end of a tether. Sorrow fills those liquid crystal eyes, so deep, so profound, that Peloquin tries to speak, to say something, anything that would bring the smile back to those perfect lips….
Before he can do so much as say one word, she cries out soundlessly, and jerks back, twisting as if in pain, melting back into the night…..

Peloquin woke with a growl, and found he had stretched out his arms in his sleep, trying to grab the ethereal phantom that had haunted his dreams for the past fortnight, only to be thwarted again by waking. Pure desire coursed through him, the evidence of it hard against the soft blankets of his bed.
He growled again, frustration and unspent lust quickly turning into anger. He was not used to being denied womanflesh. He was the great virility, after all, a legendary paramour amongst the breed. Not much could stop him from showing his “Affection”….
He grabbed one of the strange, striated, crimson and white serpentine tails of flesh that crowned his head instead of hair, and tugged, baring his fangs at nothing.
“Am I reduced to this?!” He snarled at no one, deep voice reverberating off the stone walls of his bedchamber, echoing faintly. He gave his large erection a disgusted glance. “Pleasing myself after adolescent dreams of phantom pussy? I think not….”
He began to run down the long mental list of females he could pay an impromptu visit to, and found that he was not satisfied with any of them. Even his current favorite, the delicious and deadly Shunna Sassi, held no interest for him on this day. He lay back, bright blue-green eyes closed, and wandered what these dreams meant. They were enough to drive him to distraction, and the women were beginning to notice. Some even had the audacity to whisper (but only when he was far out of earshot) that he might be losing his touch.
These thoughts only served to make him angrier, and although the sun was high over the necropolis that concealed Midian from prying natural eyes, he rose and dressed. Peloquin left his alcove in the stone and began to pace the labyrinth.

The bright sun hurt her delicate eyes, and quickly sapped what little reservoirs of strength her body possessed. But still she stumbled on, guided either by an internal compass or madness….
Some deep instinct told her a haven might be close, somewhere safe. The thought of not having to run and hide anymore almost brought her out of her walking catatonic state, but she was too far gone, had been through too much before her weary footsteps led her here.
And what was here? Nothing, as far as she could see….But she could feel something, and her heart beat a little faster. Maybe she had found that lost shangri-la, a place where even those that hunted her would fear to tread….
She didn’t dare to hope…..
So she plodded on, none of the feline grace that was usually so prominent about her visible in the slow, plodding steps she took now. Day made her feel less like a predator and much, much more like prey. Tucking a strand of hair so black it was almost blue behind one slender, pointed ear, she trudged on, past the tiny ghost town, beyond thinking, operating on pure instinct now. And then she saw it. The cemetery, grander in death than most places ever were in life. It possessed much more vitality, seemed more alive to her than any town of men she had ever passed through.
She caught the scent in her sensitive nose a moment after she saw the graveyard…..The smells of night, of blood, of the hunt, of freedom. One thought slashed through her dazed mind, forced her exhausted and ill-used body into running, one last, desperate burst of energy…..Others of my kind!
She stumbled, at the heavy gates, and there, on the threshold of Midian, her strength finally gave out. She fell then, thin form crumpling, yellow eyes closed tightly against the late afternoon sun.
One hand, thin and pale as milk, reached through the gate, clenching and unclenching weakly, like a dying butterfly, then went still…..


Peloquin stifled a yawn, studying the face of the crying woman in front of him, not really hearing her impassioned, heartfelt pleas. At another gut-wrenching sob, he rolled his eyes and let his gaze wander.
“You know, you’re not as pretty as I first thought.” The cold tone of his voice stopped her dead. He was glad for the silence. To prevent her from continuing with her insipid begging, he pressed on. “I made you a part of the Qualm because I liked the way you fucked, not the way you talked.”
“B-b-but I l-love you….” Peloquin grinned as he saw the pain in her wide brown eyes. It made him laugh.
“I’m glad, honestly. Now how about shutting up, and really loving me?” He drew closer, sliding a claw across her heaving breast, tracing a nipple, gripping her chin with his other hand and forcefully tilting her head up. It was obvious her distress aroused him.
“You’re a pig.” She ripped away, fresh tears bursting forth. “And I wish I never met you!” She balled her hands into helpless fists, shaking furiously.
“The feeling will be mutual if you keep acting like this.” He couldn’t help but be amused at her pain. He had explained everything from the get go. It wasn’t his fault if she suffered from delusions that she was special to him in some way…..
“I want to be your mate!” She cried, sounding more and more ridiculous with ever word. Peloquin bellowed laughter at this.
“You? You? My mate? Ha!” He was nearly doubled over with mirth, cackling at her sheer stupidity. “By all the Gods, woman, are you insane? You may be breed now, but you’re still thinking like a natural! My mate? Ha!” He had to sit down, ribs hurting. “I made you Qualm because you amuse me. Nothing more! But I will give you credit….This is the best laugh I’ve had in weeks!”
“When you first changed me, you used to stay with me almost every night….What did I do wrong? Just tell me and I‘ll fix it! I promise! Please, just stay with me! I‘m sorry!” Her tone took on a high-pitched, desperate pleading note, and it set Peloquin’s teeth on edge. He yawned again and began walking away. To his surprise, she followed, and grabbed his arm. With barely a thought, he backhanded her, sending her careening to the ground.
“I will come to you when and if I feel I need your services. Not the other way around. You have a place here, and it’s obviously more than you deserve. Now get out of my sight before I decide you really are too much trouble and end you right here….” He exhaled, releasing a small part of the beast, felt his face change, felt the fleshy dreadlocks writhe like snakes on his scalp as more appeared, and grinned a hungry grin at her.
“And remember….Compared to me and the other true breed….You’re just meat for the beast….” With that he roared at her, the leonine sound primal and almost deafening, and laughed as she tore off through the twilight necropolis.
It gave him no small pleasure to see that, even through her fear, the look of almost dog-like love and devotion never left her face.
Peloquin turned away from the fleeing figure, inhaling and drinking down his monstrous features, a cold grin on his handsome face that did not quite reaching his sparkling blue-green eyes, and began to greet the falling night in the way of the true predator.




“There’s a girl by the gates, Kinski.” Ohnaka whispered to the man with a crescent moon for a face.
“Oh?” Kinski didn’t look up from his perch on the doorstep of an ancient, elaborate mausoleum, just kept sharpening his favorite blade, an old but well-kept half-moon. “Natural?”
Never one for words, Ohnaka just cradled the small black and white dog that was his constant companion closer, and shrugged, smiling in his strange, child-like way. Kinski sighed and stood up, streching. “I was just thinking we could do with a little excitement tonight. Probably just some whacko natural….I guess I should try to send her on her way before Peloquin comes charging out of nowhere, trying to either eat her or fuck her….” Kinski muttered, not unkindly, and Ohnaka giggled.
With one last longing glance at the moon, he started for the front gate.