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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, locales are entirely coincidental.


Copyright (c) 2014 Shelique Lize

Cover Art Work by Dihaze on DeviantART


All Rights Reserved

No Part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights.


ISBN: 978-1500203665

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And it came to pass when the children of men began to multiply on the face of the earth and daughters were born unto them, that the angels of God saw them on a certain year of this jubilee, that they were beautiful to look upon; and they yearned for them and took wives, each choosing for himself.

The women conceived divine hellions, who grew rapidly and to great stature. Their bodies were fare and smooth of limbs like their fathers, their minds were keen and they were proud.

These half mortals were known as the Nephilim and they could not eat all which the labor of men produced and they turned themselves against men, in order to devour their life which resides in the blood.


- Book Of Enoch

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Chapter 1




Awakening hot, sweaty and trembling, I sat up erect, utterly distracted by my surroundings, and engrossed with feeling antsy for no particular reason. There was a giddiness building inside of me but yet a darkness loitering.

My fingers mauled over the dewy, bleak cement beneath them and, gaping in confusion, I stared off into the rouge lit darkness to find a dozen thick rusting iron bars standing in front of me, as if condemning me to this small confinement.

Behind me, I knew there were iron shackles built into the stone wall to hold prisoners. To the left and right of where I sat was another set of stone barriers growing muck that I could not see but the musty, tangy odour has not gone unnoticed. I sneezed, realizing that I could sensibly taste the fungus growing and that was new to me; but there was also another scent, so heavenly and sapid that I wanted to bathe myself in the fragrance.

Peering off into the opening, beyond the iron doors was where the rouge lighting was coming from, an opening from high up in the ceiling to allow some light in for the captives and/or a torturing device—however you want to look at it.

These dingy cells had no windows but the red glow outside reminded me of blood, mostly because of the essence that enraptured my physical, and for a short while I entertained my exhilarated self with the thought that the red glow was a pool of blood. How delightful that would be.

Nevertheless, rouge lighting? Isn’t that quaint? I wondered, feeling my hair rising on my nape, arms, legs, everywhere in which hair resides pulsing through vivacity, so intense and pure, my fingers curled into fists giving it no outlet.

My vision began to darken; I felt myself slipping and I stood up hastily which made it worse because I fell right into the hands of wooziness, stumbling into the sleety iron bars, cursing.

The cursing was followed promptly by bitter laughter as I mulled over my own situation, grasping the irony of where I was and knowing that I was most likely being punished because of her. My thoughts lingered on her swarthy pale brown face, her soft, supple lips and defiant dark brown eyes.

Zachariah will kill her for sure for my one slip, my one weakness, and gripping the bars tightly I laughed aloud with lucidity clinging to my harmony… And that’s when I heard her—Amelia.

“Who’s there?” her voice so shaken and quiet. I felt the need to go to her, and figure out why she sounded so distressed. However the main question at hand was why is Amelia down here?

Slowly, against the implacable force of zeal pulsing through every vein, muscle and artery, the essence of what works in-sync to keep a being like me going was all elevated and the ethereal smell still idled. My fangs extended then, automatically, like her voice were a fang charmer, and I followed impulsively, thinking about blood.

Blood, blood and more blood. I thought of biting Amelia, monstrously, tearing through her flesh and veins, reaping blood. All that was running through my mind was the red substance, it was taking over and, for the first time in a long time, I was scared.

Amelia repeated her question as I walked past the iron bars, narrowing my sudden burst of hunger on her gaunt face, under the red moonlight from above. Amelia's curly hair swallowed her petite face as she took a step back; her dress wrapped around her legs sparingly, moving closer to the shade of obscurity.

“Dante…” Amelia said my name, quivering as her brown eyes studied who was before her in fear and confusion. Her thoughts tried to make sense of the monster before her and questions populated her mind.

Amelia's heartbeats increased, breaths shortened and her eyes widened with definite fear as her brows pulled tightly together; she shook her head nimbly. She whispered, “So the rumours are true...” Her scent engulfed me like a tornado and I knew I didn’t want the darkness to take over, so I fought and another flash of dizziness came at me, my vision blurring, and I knew it wanted Amelia.

Fighting the monster inside of me, my jaw tensed. “Get out of here!”

What is happening to me!? My body was going into hunting mode and not a drop of blood was spilled. I can usually control such desires, when face to face with the dark red beauty, so how and why can Amelia’s blood be so powerful, so potent that I can literally feel the warmth of it smoothing down my throat? How can her blood drive me this crazy with desire—an unyielding, agonizing craving?

Amelia took a fearful step back and, planting my feet into the cement, I grumbled, “Leave.” I felt it crack with force; my fingers curling. The smell of my blood eluded the air. I was drowning in the dark depths of myself and I could feel every inch of me slipping.

Amelia said my name not moving, her tone still shaken, and the darkness laughed the harder I tried to resist the consumption for control. It held me, confined my soul, my every fibre to protect the one thing that helped me to remember the fragile little boy I tried to lock away.

Growling, I appeared in front of Amelia, into the scarlet moon lighting, too quick for human eyes to comprehend.“Get, out!” and I pushed her—fangs and all. She stumbled backwards unto the wet, mucky, cement swallowing the panic and the urge to scream in terror at the Vampyre she claimed, once upon a time, to love.

Veins pumping, breathing ragged, I bellowed for Amelia to escape. With each step I advanced towards Amelia, she crawled backwards in fright, tears streaming down her face, until finally she got up and sprinted into the darkness, stumbling a few times but keeping up with my forced pace and callous words.

I heard Amelia gasp when she encountered the back wall, frantically seeking out her escape, and she winced when I reached around her to open the chamber doors but instantly pulled away when my hands began to seer and burn.

A nasty snarl bellowed out of my throat as I cursed, realizing this was indeed my punishment. Amelia scrambled from beside me, terrified to be so close, when just a day ago she couldn't keep her hands off of me.

Hurrying back into the rouge lighting in sheer terror, Amelia ran without another word, escaping into the shadows of the dungeon, and she shrieked for salvation that never came.

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To Be Continued....

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