30

There.
There.
Smallest sound that cracks the night.

Blood runs hot,
alarming.
Efficient sentry,
fright.

Cold.
Frost-tipped nails
trickle
down the spine.

Breathe.
Ragged gasps,
air is siphoned
by her kiss.

Still.
Twitch, and feel
the cold embrace,
the last
before the void.

Quiet.
Susurrus of the 
Dread Queen,
lying by your side.

Paralyzed.
Soft kiss,
leaving broken skin.

Satisfied.
Hunger slaked,
laughing,
then withdrawal.

Dancing lights in
one last glance,
freedom from her thrall.