But every step you take will feel as if you were treading upon knife blades so sharp that blood must flow. - The Little Mermaid
Warning: Spoilers for volume 5
His new teeth had started throbbing, painfully and suddenly, and it had hurt so. There was something out there, something that was making it painful to even breathe, even close his mouth, and if it went away, so would the pain. He knew that, mostly because there was now a dead man in the garden out back, with teethmarks in his throat. The pain had gone away after the man was dead, after he had come back to his senses. After the villagers had run away screaming.
He'd always been afraid of pain. Sticks and stones, they break bones, words break hearts. The villagers had used both, whichever had been at their disposal.
Yes, that way, that was the right way to go and the throb lessened, and the wind hummed in his ears as he flung himself down the castle steps and into the forest.
The world narrowed down to the rustle of leaves and snapping branches -- za, za, it was almost like flying. There, gold and cream and black and a girl's perfume and oh.
He whimpered, nose buried in the soft skin of her throat and the throb of the vein, pulsing like a startled bird. She didn't scream, just gasped in harsh startled breaths, and didn't move, didn't even twitch. His jaw ached from holding still. Or holding back.
There was a dead man in the back garden with teethmarks in his throat. The pain had gone away then. If he didn't make it go away now, it'd linger, like this, hurting and hurting so. Aleister Crowley whimpered, and pulled away.
She was so fragile, so soft and helpless and unmoving under him, and she was beautiful. A real girl.
"I'm not a vampire," he whispered, inching away. She had the softest honey-gold hair he'd ever seen, and her perfume was dizzying. "I'm so sorry."
Small white hands lifted, and he scrambled back, tripped over his own cape and fell over. She did not smile. She caught his face, cupped it, tilted it up. She looked down at him, and her face was not the face of a terrified young girl. It was a woman that gazed down on him, and the look on her face was the look of a woman transfigured.
"You are," she said tenderly. Her smile was glorious, and her teeth white against her red lips.
"Don't you ever die," she murmured and tugged, gently.
It was the easiest thing in the world, to close his mouth, and kiss her timidly on the mouth, while she wrapped her bruised arms around his neck.
His teeth hurt, on and on.
But the touch of another human hand on his was heaven.