BEFORE YOU READ, I'd like to point out that I wrote this in 2009, many moons ago. I'm a much different writer in tone and style, for the better I'd hope, and the slightly cheesy romantic-passion stuff I don't really write anymore. I was just in a poetic mood and instead of a poem, I wrote a poetic one-shot. That being said, I enjoyed it at the time, like it now, have gotten good reviews on it since, and think it does have an interesting place in my writing history so I'll post it here. But if this is the first of my stories you're checking out, this is not indicative of my present writing at all so don't judge my other stories by this particular one-shot. Thank you. Also, I didn't have a time-period in mind per se, but you can think of it as older.

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The night I turned was the first night I saw a blood moon. I always imagined a blood moon would be a frightening thing, but it was beautiful. Like a lovely crimson wave, splashing on a dimly lit amber shore. The night I saw the moon was the night I could no longer call myself human. That was the night I met my sire.

Walking alone never bothered me, and why should it? Alone was the air I breathed, every thought racing through my blood-pounding head. I remember marveling at the full moon, a pure white orb of crystal and light, as of yet unstained. I sat beneath an old willow tree, ironic in its poeticism, its mystical existence. Sitting under trees near midnight was not an action I usually partook of, but that night it seemed right.

When I first saw him, he came through a clump of crowded trees, cast on by the moonlight. His skin was pale, but almost translucent in its inhuman perfection. His eyes were a deep brown, flecked with little auburn and gold pinpoints. That I was aware of such a detail was testament to the powers of the newly sired. He hadn't expected a person, of that I could be certain as his gaze roved over me, hesitant but curious. Finally, he moved closer causing his dark brown hair to fall casually but endearingly upon his face, "A bit late, to be out on the night of a full moon don't you think? The moon draws out all sorts of beasts."

The man was beautiful beyond compare, but I was not entranced, captivated perhaps, but not entranced, and I felt my lips curl into a smile, "And are you one of those beasts?"

The man paused, considering, and then his gaze turned solemn, "I could be."

A moment, just a brief moment, and he seemed to have more age and unspoken wisdom than I had ever known existed, and my heart suddenly ached for him. I rose then, coming closer, why should I fear something that seemed so dream-like? Mere inches from him, I stopped, looking up into his crystalline face and inhaling his scent unconsciously. He smelled of the earth, a raw, powerful scent.

I saw the moment his body tensed, and from his expression, was certain he noticed me as I had noticed him. After a long moment, he relaxed only slightly, and said quietly, "Where is your fear, Little One?" He drew closer, his body just barely against my own, "Tempting a beast is not very wise."

My heart skipped a beat as he drew closer, a heat and an aura pressed against me, washing over me. But I looked boldly up at him, at this strange specter of darkness and desire, of sadness and longing, "You call yourself a beast freely then?"

"When I must."

His look was more solemn than before, but his eyes were not so somber. And something like desire flickered in them, a mere ember that longed to be a flame. He was right to question my fear, or lack thereof. I did not understand how I could be so unafraid, stand boldly before such a man, a stranger who spoke few words but when speaking seemed to call himself a danger. That was not normal for me, and while my mind told me that I should be afraid, should run from the odd banter, my heart ruled stronger, and I stayed. I felt drawn to him, in a way that would make the world a dull half-world if I left him now. So yes, I stayed, and shook my head, "Not a beast, just sad…"

An emotion I couldn't place warmed his gaze, but he turned away, "Sadness is a paltry word to describe what I feel. A cheap knock-off of despair, of loneliness, of…" The man cut off, turning further away as he clenched his fists and said through gritted teeth, "Leave now girl, leave now before I prove why I must call myself a beast."

I regret nothing that happened that night, who I am, who he is, if I have any regrets, it was that I left the world so utterly young, and with so little to live for. My hand rose of its own accord, curving softly on his cheek, and tilting his head back to me gently, "Prove what you must, but I won't leave you." Was it wrong of me, of us, to move so quickly? We who were strangers under the light of the full moon? But I realized later that was part of the magick, of the dark bloom inside our hearts that made moments seem like eternity.

The man grimaced, exhaling in a soft curse, before looking into my eyes again, "You don't know what you're asking me…what you're granting me. I don't have that kind of control; you can't taunt me this way without consequences, leave before I can no longer vouch for myself."

I did not even think, but guided by a sudden ember bursting into flame, and the ever-magicked light of the full moon, I leaned closer, pressing my lips to his softly.

He moved not at all for a moment, before his arms snaked around my body, one hand caressing my cheek, as he returned the kiss in a way I never knew was possible. My veins were like liquid fire, hot and rushing, and I burned with an ache that I had never before felt. I saw his eyes once more and they looked like warm honey, as though I could drown in them, bittersweet, encompassing warmth. Then, he leaned away coming nearer to my neck as he trailed kisses down from my cheek to the spot between my neck and my shoulder. The man paused, pulling away slowly, as though it were killing him, and he fixed his warm honey eyes on me, fierce and dark, "This is what you want? You do this freely? I can give you this one chance, and only this before we are both lost."

The intensity of his gaze seared me, and pressing my lips softly over his, I murmured, "Yes."

He drew in a quick breath which in hindsight was unnecessary, and leaned closer, resuming his position between my shoulder and neck. His lips pressed to my skin, and I felt his mouth open, and then a sharp jab as he bit into me. I didn't understand what he was doing. I tried to turn my head, but was suddenly woozy, it seemed like it should hurt, but it didn't, it felt…indescribable. And then all at once, he drew my blood in, harder and harder and I felt myself soar. I heard a scream that could wake the dead, and only realized later it was my own. And ironically, the dead did awake that night, I awoke.

The waves of heat in my body increased, dragging me to a pleasure and a pain that I could never have imagined, and then all at once stopped. My body stilled, warm and hazy inside and I felt him pull his head away. Dimly, I felt him lay me back, and watched as he used his teeth…no…his fangs, to bite open his lip. He leaned closer, watching me intently with those eyes…those warm honey eyes, and pressed his lips to mine. I reacted instantly, drinking deep in a haze of blood lust and passion as my sire brought me back to the world.

The man…my beast, pulled away slowly, my body still hazy and dim, and the last thing I saw while mortal were his face and the moon. Pale and ethereal, his lips of dark red, and the moon, stained crimson. A lovely, glowing blood moon. And then, I saw no more.