The RescuersMature

Delilah knew she wasn’t at the whore house anymore even before she opened her eyes. She had a routine she did when she woke up, to make sure she was alone and where she was. She couldn’t tell where she was for crap, but defiantly knew she wasn’t alone.

Going through her routine, she used her sharp senses.

She smelled the fresh scent on the covers of a bed she laid on. She almost moaned. It’s been years since she’s felt soft, cool, clean sheets under her. It smelled of tulips. Trying to catch hold of her enthusiasm, she checked with her hearing. Strangely, there wasn’t a normal rhythm to the person’s breathing that was in here. It sounded faster, more like an animal. She puzzled over it for a minute and decided that she could ‘wake up’ now.

She slowly raised her arms over her head and arched her back, stretching. She didn’t fake the satisfied moan as the sheets fell away to her touch, allowing her body to sink into the bed more. This was heaven, she mused. Opening her eyes, she looked around at what seemed to be an apartment.

It wasn’t small, well compared to the usual apartments. It had a full kitchen on the far side of the room, taking up all the wall space and a good ten feet into the room. There was a small bar installed, allowing her to see inside the kitchen, and she saw that there was a small freeze box and oven. A pantry door was right next to it. There was no dinner table, but a few stools at the bar.

Looking on, she saw the living room was smaller. It had a few three seated couches, all of them cattie-cornered except for the one against the wall, and almost touching on their corners. And a wooden coffee table sat in the middle of the couches. There was a carpet underneath it all, it looked embroidery of sort, but she knew very little of that. Other than a candle in the middle of the table, it was barren.

‘Come to think of it. . .’ she asked herself as she looked at the walls and answered her own question.

There were no paintings, photos, or even a lamp on the wall. It was like a waste land of tastes. Only the bare color of tan on the wall was any hence of color, at least it wasn’t white.

‘The person who lived here obviously didn’t have a taste for art,’ she thought as she looked over the room again.

The mental statement caused her to stiffen as she remembered what happened. Guilt washed through her as she recalled her attacking the bouncers and practically ripping their throats out. And she had enjoyed it! She loved the feel of their blood running over her tongue and their taste in her mouth.

A blush came to her cheeks as she realized what she said. Gods, she sounded like she had a blood-fuck.

She had heard about it from another vampire that had passed by the whore house, to buy a few women.

He had asked if they were up for a blood-fuck and, though it took some explaining from Rose, she understood the concept. It sounded disgusting and gross.

Delilah shied away from any acts that reminded her of her species. She wasn’t ashamed to be a vampire, but it just was proof that she was alone in the world. A world that would rather see her dead than alive.

“Good, you’re awake. You sleep like the dead. No pun intended.” The voice came from her right and she nearly screamed.

She sat there, staring at the lump of fur on the bed, before she reacted. Her mouth flagging open and closed, she couldn’t talk.

There was a wolf in the bed! And it can talk!

She didn’t take her eyes off the wolf as she reached for the edge of the bed and-


-fell right over.

Landing smack dab on her back, she had the wind knocked right out of her. Delilah groaned as she rubbed her back with one hand and held herself up with the other.

“Now, little one, that was quite unnecessary. I will not harm you; Conor would surely not like that.” The wolf had something that resembled a smile and a strange noise came from his throat. She realized the wolf was laughing and she flushed with anger.

“You can’t just sit there and wait for someone to wake up and- wait, Conor? Who’s Conor?” She asked as her mind switched gears and began to question her memories of her blood rage.

Had someone bought her after all?  

“Yes, Conor, my human.” The sound of pride was unmistakable in the animal’s voice.

“You’re a shifter’s animal?” she asked though she knew the answer anyway.

“Yes, I am. You may call me Berach.” The wolf seemed amused to speak the name, like he liked it, but it had a strange history behind it.

“I thought most shifters don’t give their animals a name.” She asked, curious to how this one had a name when most called them by their species.

“True, most don’t. But I had left a lasting impression on someone and the nickname stuck.” The smile returned and the wolf slipped down to the floor next to her.

Though it was a shifter’s animal, it was huge. Its head was a full foot and a half over her own, which she was sitting straight up now. The presences of the wolf so close caused her to tense. Its coat was sleek and well taken care of. It had a pure black coat, but the back paws had splashes of white and his chest had a white star laid there. Though it had scared the shit out of her, she was beginning to warm up to the canine.

“What is your name, little one?” He asked as she sat down on his haunches. Still the wolf loomed over her.

“Delilah.” She answered, she loved her name. She would have preferred to have chosen her own name, but she wasn’t given the choice.

“Ah, because of your beautiful eyes?” She felt a blush rise to her face as Berach intently searched her eyes. Possibly for a blemish in her violet eyes? Well, he could keep trying, but there was none.  

“No, actually. When I was found I had a Delilah held in my hand and I was sniffing it, for the longest time. Like I would never get enough of the flower.” She smiled at the earliest memory, still smelling the flower.

“Very clever.” He laughed again and then stood. “There is a shower that you are very welcome to use. Conor won’t be back for at least ten, perhaps fifteen minutes, so I would hurry. Just grab a towel when you’re done and I’ll be sure to get you some clothes.” The wolf ordered and she lit up at the sound of a shower.

“Is it transferred water?” She asked as she stood and realized she was still in the blood soaked cloak she was being shown. The ery memory brought her to shame.

“Yes, but it is heated. It’s not pure water, but it’ll be more pleasant than a cold one.” The wolf said as he walked to the couch and jumped up on it and rounded to look at her. “What are you waiting for?”

The girl jumped and he chuckled as she practically bounced as she went to the bathroom and closed the door.

Berach smiled as a plan was beginning to form in his head. The girl was innocent as they came and, they might not know, but they had the connection that he had been looking for Conor. He smiled and he laid down, as he heard the water start, knowing full well Conor would only be a few more minutes.


Delilah sighed as she felt the warm water on her skin. In the whore house they only allowed a bath every other day, and that was with cold water. You would think they would allow them to take better care of themselves, but the women believed perfume would cover their stank in the days they didn’t take a bath.

For the most part, it did. But to Delilah perfume was acrid and smelled disgusting. And she never wore it. It covered up her sense of smell and she relied heavily on her nose for information her eyes couldn’t bring her. And when men bought her drinks she smelled the drink to see if they drugged it, most do.

Delilah replayed the conversation with Berach and she smiled at what she missed before. She didn’t know how other vampires reacted to the pun he had made, but she laughed.

But unlike what the humans made up about them, they were the very opposite.

It was known that vampires weren’t originally made by the gods. But they had taken an offer that a god had made. It was the god of war that offered them the option to become night walkers. Ares, the god of war, approached an ancient vampire and offered him justice. For the vampire’s family and clan had been killed by humans.

But the twist was, that vampire, wasn’t a vampire. Not until he accept the offer from the God. He was an elf. He had taken shelter in a cave when he had been approached by the god.

Full of anger and rage, he accepts the god’s proposal. Ares was pleased, for he had his own race now. He had been angered when his mother and father, Zeus and Hera, didn’t allow him to have his own people. So he took it into his own hands.

The myth goes on and says that Ares gave the elf a kiss and he crumbled to the ground in agony. It was days before he rose and he realized that he could see in the dark cave and that he could hear things echoing around him like he never could before.

From then he found a women and he married her, after getting his revenge for his family and clan. She grew old and his wife died. She knew what he was and she loved him anyway. Despaired and angry, he called to Ares, but got his sister Athena. She offered him what he wanted and he made a deal with her.

She would give him females, so that he might continue the vampire legacy. But he would answer to her call and not Ares. If she would ever call them, they would all appease her, even if it went against Ares.

From then on, vampires spread and they became a very independent species. Though it seemed that they came from the dust, they are indeed cousins to the elves. Their very striking features only proofed that and their connection with nature also helped.

We do have a beating heart and we can’t “change” someone into being a vampire. We can’t go in sunlight because what they drink from humans is their calcium in their blood. All other creatures, besides vampires, go into the sunlight. They soak up the vitamins that the sun gives them and vampires can’t get that. So vampires have to drink their blood to get those nutrients and vitamins. It would take weeks, but vampires can die from not drinking. We can eat food, but some don’t prefer to, because the taste for food becomes ashen when a vampires becomes old. They can live as long as any other non-human, but they lose their taste for food and eventually become unemotional. That is until they find their mate. They do tend to live longer than then other non-humans because of their diet, but only by about a century or two.

Delilah always scared herself when she thought of that. Tha history of her race seemed to be burned in her brain. Like the information had been beaten into her. But it was an ancient legend, a myth. Though she was inclined to believe it.

No matter what she did, she will always remember the history.

It scared her that of all the things, she remembered that. And it left her wondering  even more who she was before she had lost all her memories.

Delilah stilled in the shower and let the water fall over her. She hated to admit it, but it scared her to learn who she had been.

She knew that if she got her memories back it would change her. It would change who she was right now and she had worked so hard in her individuality. To stay true to her instincts and what her heart said. But she wanted to get her memories back more than anything. She would give up anything.

She sighed as she hung her head, because she had nothing.

Shaking her head, she put her face underneath the water and tried to rid herself of the melancholy that always came with such thoughts.

She found a some shampoo and conditioner, though it was for men, it was better than nothing. And she hated it when her hair got greasy from not washing it with anything.

Delilah reveled in the water. She always loved the water. When she was first in the whore house, she would take water and manipulate it. She would make it float and she would cause it to ‘rain’ in the place. She loved it. But when the Master learned that she would do this, he beat her and told her not to do that again. She complied and never again played with water, she was afraid to.

She knew now that it was strange. She would be called a freak after that and she cried. She was a freak, the last surviving vampire and she was alone, afraid and a freak. What a hope she is.

But her love for water never debated. She would enjoy playing with the water whenever she was alone in the bath. No matter what anyone said, she would love water.

Feeling the water become a little cold, she finished rinsing her hair and jumped out of the shower. She would never take a cold bath or shower. So long as she had anything to say about it.

Seeing a towel across the bathroom, she stepped out of the shower to get it.  She shivered as her body became accustomed to the cool air.

When she headed to the door, she crossed paths with a mirror and she stopped.

For a moment she was tempted to wave her hand to see if the person in the mirror was her. But when she blinked she thought better not to. She was already partially insane, let’s not make her seem worse.

The whore house would tear someone’s sanity to shreds, she was lucky she hadn’t been like a friend of hers. She was just a little girl when she had been bought by the Master. He used the girl as his personal amusement and she quickly became crazy form his constant attention. When the door as closed, she didn’t know what he did to her, she was glad she didn’t. But she had the misfortune of being one of the few women that caught his attention.

Being forced to watch him do things to women left her with a deep fear of men that mostly left her frozen when a man touched her. The reason why she had reacted with the bouncers the way she did was because of her hunger. She refrained from touching men if she could help it.

Except with Conor. . . shaking her head again she focused on the mirror. It’s been a while since she’s seen herself in the mirror.

She had the violet eyes that so many men complimented her about, with light flecks of royal purple. Her long black hair was almost down to her hips because it was wet. When it dried it would be down to the small of her back. She had semi big breasts, not to big, but the perfect size, or so men said. She was a C cup and she preferred it that way. She had a small waist because of the way they fed her and her hips flared from her waist. She could plainly see the shape of her ribs and her pelvic bones were sharp on her skin. She had managed to keep the muscles in her legs because she would exercise at night. Her arms were toned as well; her small shoulders were taunt and tight. She rolled her shoulders and winced when she felt her muscles stiffen. She had knots in her muscles, but she couldn’t do anything about it.

Sighing she looked closer at her face, placing her hands on the counter, and saw the gauntness in her cheeks and the dark circles under her eyes. Her eyes were dim, like she found everything uninteresting.

Oh she wished to be numb, to not care about anything. To be anything she wanted and do what ever she like without being bothered by it. It would make living in this world so much easier. But she was very female and she cared about what people thought of her and what she did.

Delilah hated that about her, but she knew how to defend herself at least. As soon as she learned about fighting, she taught herself to fight. To dodge and strike back. It came in handy when men thought that she was helpless. After the initial shock of them touching her, cold rage filled her and she let her body do the rest. She had trained what little she could.

You had to know how to fight in this world; otherwise you’re a sitting duck.

She stood straight and walked to the wall hanger that held the towel and wrapped it around her. She headed for the door without hesitation.

“Berach-”, she opened the door and stopped dead.

There stood a man. Though she was stunned she remembered that the man was Conor, Berach’s Shifter. The man who’s touch didn’t scare her and didn’t harm her.

And here she stood in a towel.

Whirling around, she closed the door and felt her face aflame with embarrassment.

She heard some talking and then footsteps came to the door and she tensed. If he tried to force the door open she wouldn’t hesitate to hit him.

“Delilah, I’ve got some clothes for you. They might not fit you, but it’s better than nothing.” She heard the small amusement in his voice and she grew more embarrassed, if it was possible. 

She opened the door spotted the folded clothes he held, grabbed them nodded her head gratefully, and she closed the door. Leaving him with a shocked expression on his face.

She looked at the clothes and saw that they were his. She took a moment and she unfolded them. It was a pair of grey sweat ants and a button up shirt. Odd match up, but, as he said, it was better than nothing. She took the shirt and began to button it. She didn’t have a bra, she never owned one. She either wore a corset or a dress that held her up. She hadn’t needed one. She had no underwear either and she realized she would have to go commando until they got to wherever they were gonna go.

She pulled on the sweatpants and tightened the drawstrings.

The pants were rough on her skin, the fabric they made with clothes today were very different from those made years ago. Some were lucky to have some left, but most didn’t. The clothes that were actually made of fabric and cotton cost a fortune.  

Sighing she took the towel and wrapped her hair up in it. She went back to the door and closed her eyes.

She hated to face him after that, but she had to thank him. After that she could ignore him.

Opening the door she walked out.

The End

6 comments about this story Feed