Chapter Thirty | Killing Sunlight

The month that passed was as fulfilling as it could ever be, given the time constraints. They had promised not to be morbid and talk about it anymore. For the most part, things had carried on as 'normal'. The Monday night before her birthday couldn't have been bleaker; it had rained all day. Karou decided to make the best of it and sat at Warren's piano, drawing the view from his bedroom window. Raindrops on the glass, moonlight and the tree's bold silhouette created a stunning, otherworldly image. Once she was satisfied that the drawing was complete, she closed her sketchbook, pulled up one leg, and hugged it to her chest. With her chin resting on her knee, she stared at the view a little longer.

The moment Warren exited his office, she heard him and turned about to look at him. The walk he took in a straight line towards her seemed to pass in slow motion; she still thought he was gorgeous, but that night, he looked exhausted, and his eyes were black with thirst. It wasn't until he entered his room, tugging the tie from his neck and unbuttoning his dress shirt to get changed, that he noticed Karou perched at his piano.

"Rough day at the office?" Karou asked.

"Something like that," Warren noted dryly, peeled his dress shirt off, and tossed it into the laundry.

"I'm sitting right here, y'know?" Karou diverted her eyes when he unfastened his belt to stare at the baby grand—the bare strings were suddenly fascinating.

"Today, I've just got to get out of these clothes. Besides, you're not looking..." collecting a T-shirt from his drawer, Warren pulled it on along with a pair of lounge pants. Snapping the waistband audibly into place, he stepped over to Karou and leaned down into her personal space when he said, "All done. Now, did you want to have dinner or watch TV?"

"Uhm, neither. Not yet..." Karou pressed her index finger down on middle C. The note was crisp, and the way it bounced back off of bedroom walls spoke to the unit's excellent acoustics. "Is this piano ornamental?"

"It'd be an obnoxiously large ornament, wouldn't it?"

"It's just I've never heard you play it... You do play, don't you?"

"I do. I used to play a lot before you arrived."

"You didn't need to stop on my account... You see, I was going to ask if you'd play something for me. It's kinda on my bucket list..." Karou explained. Although she knew little about playing music, she had always loved it.

"Well..." While she remained seated on the piano's stool, his arms stretched either side of her shoulders so that his chest pressed into the back of her head. His fingers reached out to the keys with great anticipation. The closeness he'd instigated without hesitation sent a shiver down her spine, "we tend to spend our evenings watching movies you like instead," he stated as he played her a short rendition, a comical tune, which admittedly ruined the 'moment'.

Seeing that he was about to back away, Karou grabbed one of his wrists and turned her head to look up at him. "Oh, c'mon, you can't just play chopsticks... I want to hear a real song! Something... pretty."

Warren rolled his eyes, "fi-ine," though he supposed he didn't really mind indulging her. "Shuffle over."

Karou shifted to the end of the bench. Their outer thighs touched, but Warren didn't flinch. She was pleased that he allowed her to touch him so freely and smiled to herself as she watched him flex his fingers and get comfortable.

"Is there anything you want to hear in particular... Other than something 'pretty'?"

"Nope, anything you like."

Warren paused for a moment in thought before placing his fingers back onto the keys. The minor key inspired a mood that resonated with her feelings about her upcoming birthday, yet the melody was delicate and more than pretty; it was beautiful and just what she'd requested. Watching Warren's fingers dance across the keys was mesmerising. Is it possible to be so attracted to someone's hands? she wondered. She longed to reach out and touch them, but doing so would have brought the song to an abrupt end. The tune also conveyed that emotion; it spoke to a sorrowful, heart-wrenching yearning. Glancing up at Warren's face, though he bowed his head as if staring at the keys, she noticed his eyes were closed. Clearly, he knew the melody so well that he could play it blind. The manner in which his lips and brow moved revealed to Karou that the music evoked feelings in him, too; he wasn't as indifferent as he would have liked her to believe. Until the song concluded, she remained transfixed on his face, admiring both him and the music he filled her ears with.

When it was over, he set his hands on his lap and opened his eyes to focus on the keyboard before closing the lid with a sense of finality. "Would you like to—"

"What's it called?" Karou cut him off.

"Marriage D'Amor," he answered plainly, though he still didn't meet her eyes despite being aware Karou was searching for their attention. She had turned to face him and postured towards him; he knew that much.

"It doesn't bring 'marriage' to mind for me."

"No, me neither," he expected she would ask what it made him think of but decided he wouldn't explain; it just wasn't the right time to tell her. After all, the piece illustrated his feelings about destroying something beautiful and spoke to the sorrow that would inevitably come with such an act and how, ultimately, all that came to mind because he planned to execute her before the week was out was too sentimental to put into words. "Would you like to watch TV now?"

Karou nodded 'yes' and followed Warren out of his bedroom. On her way to the lounge, she tossed her sketchbook onto her bed and then curled up in her habitual corner of the couch and turned on the TV; it had all become a ritual.

Now that winter was here, Karou wore leggings most nights instead of the short, strappy ensembles she'd worn all summer. With a particularly snowy night forecast, Warren had turned up the heat in the unit, so it was comfortably cosy. Beneath the blanket she had over her, she shimmied out of the leggings and didn't mind sitting there in her underwear when she was otherwise covered up.

Warren poured himself a drink as she flicked through the channel menu but settled into his adjacent corner as she picked something to watch.

"Do you believe in Heaven, Warren?" Karou asked out of the blue as the movie began.

"Feeling philosophical, are we?" Warren sipped his drink before setting it on the coffee table. "These days, I don't believe in God or The Devil, or Heaven and Hell traditionally speaking, but being born in the Bible belt meant I was raised in a devout Christian household, so I can't bring myself to settle on there being 'nothing'. Why'd you ask?"

"My parents were atheists, so I never really thought about what happens after death that much..."

"Believe whatever helps you sleep at night. It's nobody else's business anyway."

"Hmm, I guess. What helps you sleep at night?"

"A great deal less than what keeps me awake..." he replied dryly, which earned him an eye roll from Karou that he smirked at. "My feeble attempts to live morally and, if that fails, sedatives."

Nearly two hours passed silently, save for the film that played. Karou watched it to its conclusion, but Warren had dozed off in his seat, caught between sipping scotch and observing Karou. After switching off the television and placing the remote on the coffee table, Karou turned to Warren and announced her intention to head to bed.

"Alright, I'm thirsty tonight. I think I'll feed before bed; you go on ahead."

"Tomorrow is Tuesday," Karou stated out of nowhere. Perhaps it didn't mean much, but considering the plan regarding her fast-approaching birthday, it held great significance.

"I know. Sorry I haven't talked much tonight; I'm beat. Speaking of Tuesday, though, I've got another packed day—a conference call in the morning and delivery schedules to sort out in the afternoon. I might not make it out of my office early." Brushing his hand back through his hair, Warren slumped sideways into the corner while looking at her.

"Okay. What about the day after?" Karou was picking at the threads of the blanket draped over her lap. Wednesday was the 'big day', and she wondered whether he'd tell her his 'plans'.

"Your Birthday?" Warren cocked an eyebrow at her; he hadn't expected her to bring it up due to their conversation a month ago. Honestly, he'd hoped she'd forgotten about the whole thing, but apparently, she hadn't. "I'm not working on Wednesday. There is something else I have to do that day."

"Do you... have plans early or late in the day?" Karou asked, dancing around the topic as if they were discussing something perfectly mundane.

"I thought we could just play it by ear," Warren said vaguely. Sometimes, the three feet between them seemed like miles, especially when he wanted to reach out and touch her.

Karou nodded again before clambering from the couch with the blanket wrapped around her. Just like that, she silently disappeared into her bedroom.

As mentioned, Warren had taken himself off to his office and fed beforehand; he needed self-control to make the request he had in mind. On his way to his bedroom, he peered at Karou through the gap in her door. Karou had acquired a large cardboard box and was in the process of packing her clothes into it. When he realised exactly what she was doing, he pushed the door open a bit more so she could see him standing there. As he glanced around her room, he noticed that she'd stacked all the books she'd borrowed from various places onto her desk and neatly organised her sketching supplies into a tidy pile. Being this organised was unlike her, but that wasn't what shocked him—it seemed she planned to move out, but he knew she was packing for a much more final departure.

"It won't be long until I turn my lamp out. I won't keep you up." Closing the box, Karou finished, having left herself a day's worth of clothes folded at the bottom of her bed. As she sat there, she wasn't wearing what she had earlier. Instead, she'd put on her favourite pair of pyjamas—the ones that had caused long summer nights of yearning. They weren't suitable for the season, yet she wore the lavender sleep shorts and a delicate white cotton camisole to accompany them.

"Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?"

Together, they curled up under the sheets much like the month before. Tonight, though, Warren combed back the hair from her shoulder and pressed himself into her back a little lower so that his lips lingered near the nape of her neck. In the gloomy silence, he breathed her in.

"I didn't get to do all those things I was going to," Karou whispered into the dark.

"They can't have been that important," Warren whispered back.

"They were to me."

"It kills me that you've accepted your fate with admirable grace."

"I can't decide if you're being deliberately calm and indifferent, or are you trying to make it easier for me?"

"You haven't considered how difficult this past month has been for me, Karou. I've never ended someone I didn't hate before." gingerly, his fingers clasped onto her hip, spreading over her skin beneath her clothes. His mouth loomed behind her neck, where her dark hair thinned, and though he wasn't in an adequate biting position, he put his lips on her.

"Warren..." Karou sighed his name and grasped a hold of his wrist. "What're you doing?"

As Warren's lips wandered south over her shoulder, his arms held her a little tighter, and he whispered between his kisses. "Did you think you were the only one… with a sense of unfinished business?" His hand edged further up her waist despite her trying to disable his movements.

"So, what, you figure you might as well use me before it's all over?" Karou demanded bitterly. She knew she should have felt repulsed, but in spite of herself, she was enjoying the attention he was paying her. Daring to hope that if she played her cards right, she might get a few of the things on her list after all. "You're... greedy."

"I'm much worse than greedy. I'm abhorrent." He muttered, yet still, his teasing continued. Pressed so eagerly into her body, Warren could feel her blood rising to the surface of her skin as her excitement swelled. He was already there; that much was made evident when his hips pressed fervently into her rear. "When are you going to call this whole thing off, Karou?" Warren didn't allow Karou to answer this time. Suddenly, the hand that had grasped onto her waist clasped about her chin and made her look at him. Their blue eyes met briefly before their lips did.

There came a feeling of relief when he kissed her. She'd patiently waited—anticipating the tension becoming too much so they could both be swallowed by its implosion. Desperately, she clung to him anywhere she could reach, returning the kiss he'd given her urgently.

"Mmm, Karou... How fiercely do I have to threaten your life for you to remain here just as you are?"

"Promise that it'll be like this. That you won't forget I exist when you're busy. That you'll let me sleep here, hold and kiss me like this—" She reached for him, her hand becoming entangled in his hair to keep his lips on her skin. Enthralled by Warren's touch and yearning for more as his lips trailed down her neck, she said, "Tell me you'll bite me again. Hmm, Warren... I want to see your silver eyes again." Karou couldn't just lie there anymore. She turned over and kissed him back, but she had more to say and sighed between their lips meeting and her plea. "Could I have more of you than kisses and touches?" With her dainty hand laid over the side of his face, she sought his eyes for his answer.

"You're asking for things I can't promise." He admitted while looking regretfully contrite.

"Then— " Karou swallowed her disappointment and said, "—tomorrow can be my last birthday. I have nowhere, no one to go back to and nothing here worth existing for. It's all temporary. Why stretch it out indefinitely?"

"Don't you think you're being overdramatic and a little too negative about your situation?"

"Drama and negativity have a nasty habit of following me around."

Wiggling free of his arms, Karou climbed out of bed. He had no idea where she was going, but she took off across the unit's hardwood as soon as she was through the bedroom door. Warren sprang from the mattress and chased after her. She was at the unit's front door when he caught up to her. Karou had successfully unlocked the door and was in the process of opening it when Warren's hand came down hard against the metal slab and pushed it closed with a bang. He was far too strong for her to contend with.

"Where are you going?"

"Just let me go? I swear I won't tell a soul about this place! I'd never intentionally harm anyone who lives here. They're good people. They don't deserve to die in this war, just like the Mortals, at least the innocent ones. Just let me leave this place! Please?" Karou begged.

"You're in your nightwear. It's rained all day, and it's below thirty out there tonight. You wouldn't make it even if I let you lose out the gate."

"So what? You don't care how long I live."

Warren growled. How certainly she believed he could care less about her was infuriating. He also could not believe she was prepared to gamble her life away on a whim just to have her own way. Your negotiations are utterly irrational. "You don't actually want to leave; you just want to live here on your terms and not mine. Did you think that I'd suddenly decide I was besotted with you if you threatened to run to your death?" Warren's demeanour was calm and cold as his words were, but inside, he was incensed.

"I don't pretend to understand you! How could I? You constantly remind me that you've lived five times longer than I have! That you're a repulsive monstrosity of a man, and you prove that to me regularly. You are abhorrent, yet I always forgive you. I set aside all your misgivings the moment you show the slightest bit of kindness to me." Backed against the closed door, Karou glared at him, her eyes spilling angry tears. "Fuck you! You're such a good actor, or I'm just a stupid, naive girl. All your kisses felt so real."

Warren's urge to ravage her was proving difficult to contain. Time and again, he found himself lying to uphold his façade. It was becoming more fragile by the minute. It was meant to protect her from the predator he harboured, yet when she made it clear she didn't want to be shielded and that she desired for all the scenarios from his sinful daydreams to unfold, how was he supposed to muster the strength and stamina to abstain any longer? Deep down, he longed to confess that their kisses had been his sole reprieve from the torment. That her blood had awakened things in him, he had never thought possible. She was always on his mind, brimmed with thoughts of her. He didn't know how he restrained his hands when his eyes wandered every chance he got. The tension was unbearable. She was driving him mad. Yet it seemed all for nought because he was convinced it was merely lust. How could someone as empty as he genuinely care for someone as kind as her? Even if he did, she deserved better than him. Ultimately, what he said was true. "You were easy to fool. I just want to consume you."

"Why don't you stop talking about it and do it then?" Karou dared without bothering to keep the bitter taint from her words.

The tension was mounting within her, too, and even his cruel, aggressive words stirred something inside her. She was certain she would emerge from this experience either dead or utterly ruined. Moreover, being well-read in tragic and evocative romance novels had taught Karou a thing or two about her fictional sisters. Women could always obtain what they desired from male antagonists in one way or another. One of those methods was what she was attempting now—she had donned the sweetest-looking nightwear she owned. In late November, she wasn't wearing thin, almost sheer cotton that flattered the slender angles of her neck and shoulders, nor shorts that revealed as much leg as she dared for no reason; it was a lure. Now, she found herself backed up against her only escape route, in a vulnerable position, facing off against the man intent on plucking her from innocence. Systematically, Karou tilted her head inquisitively to the side, as was her way. This action incidentally exposed a little more of her neck to him—the very thing he had told himself he couldn't have; he had received more than enough permission to take it.

Warren's movements had been too swift for Karou to discern every nuance of how she ended up pinned against the black leather couch. He had pursued her with a speed only a vampire could achieve. Although the initial impact of being placed there was disorienting, the violence he inflicted next was surprisingly gentle. Karou accepted her fate and willingly arched her neck when she felt Warren's fingers weave through her hair as if he were about to tug her head back himself. Unlike before, when he had loomed over her to feed, he didn't relieve her of his weight by elevating himself from her body; no, his chest pressed against hers as he held her forearm above her head to completely disarm her.

There was no time for kisses or teasing caresses; he needed to drink her! She'd caught sight of his fangs at her neck. Karou closed her eyes, not out of fear but to immerse herself into the physical realm with complete focus. It was the last time, so she wanted to take in how it would feel in its rawest form. The way Warren growled into her skin as his fangs sunk into the left side of her neck aroused an excited moan from her that he hadn't expected. With every impulse being followed blindly, his response to her outcry was to grind his hips into her, asserting his dominance further. She managed to keep one hand free and reached to comb her fingers into his hair—not in an attempt to pull him away, and not that she had the strength to keep him there either, but it seemed necessary to touch him now that she had submitted to him. Karou hadn't noticed, but her legs had moved to the same conclusion; they'd bound about Warren's hips like she meant for him to be positioned between them. What it implied didn't matter because Warren held Karou in a way that couldn't be confused as platonic, either. Karou imagined this pleasure of being held so possessively by Warren was as sensual as could be. Even though they still had their clothes on, and she would die a virgin, she figured at least she would have this experience.

Karou was right; she was dying, and Warren had no intention of stopping. His ears had tuned in to her heartbeat, which was growing more laboured. Gone was the excited flutter of anticipation. Passed was the steady pace of her relaxation. She was tipping over the edge of a deep slumber, drawing closer and closer to eternal stillness. The moment when her heart would run out of blood to pump was near, and Karou's limbs had relaxed pliably in his hands. Where she had once aided him by craning her neck, she no longer had the stamina to do so; her head lulled against Warren's temple instead. At last, Karou's hand fell from his hair.

Reluctantly, he pulled back from her neck and lapped the remnants of her blood from his lips. He slowly opened his eyes, but Karou couldn't inform him of their silvery glow because hers remained closed this time.

Although he had satisfied his bloodthirst, Warren felt no victory. The sense of fulfilment that came from quenching his monstrous thirst was insufficient to spare him from the profound sadness of the scene before him, just as he had suspected. Indeed, he felt invigorated as his heart pounded in his chest, alive and brimming with fresh blood. This euphoria was fleeting as the energy that coursed through him had been taken away. It occurred to him that he would never tire of her taste, but now she was entirely depleted.

Karou was the victor; she had also attained precisely what she had desired—an escape from her old life, with Warren facilitating her liberation. Indeed, she had hunted the hunter and transformed predator into prey. Beneath him, she slipped into her final slumber. There was no possibility of her awakening; all he could do was wait for her heart to stop beating and her last breath to escape into the air.

As his fingers traced her face's soft curves, his vision blurred; his eyes were waterlogged. She had been so kind and forgiving of his flaws. A beautiful woman, in the fullness of her youth and brimming with potential, had prematurely met her demise by his fangs.

No. This can't be the end.