diablerie

Alois knew his sire would have had his head for working with a werewolf. Still, having the raw strength of a rampaging Garou on his side turned out to be an even bigger boon than he had thought. It was this that convinced him that the rewards were well worth the risks.

He'd sicked his dog on an old, derelict Catholic church, which by night had become a Sabbat headquarters. The werewolf had afterwards told him that inside it seemed no less a church than it was during the day, all the Cainites inside standing about dignified amongst the pews, at the thrall of the dark-haired woman at the front.  How funny, he thought, those Sabbat animals pretending like they had an ounce of dignity, trying to cobble together some pathetic facade of a society. How cute, that they thought that they could give themselves wholesale to the Beast and still expect to hold true to some dogmatic organization. How disgusting.

It was that dark-haired woman that he had before him, bleeding and glaring and spitting up at him, spewing out brave and ultimately futile speeches about the glories of her bestial Sect. A Lasombra. Nothing more than the cheap Sabbat imitation of his own illustrious clan, he thought. For that, doing her in would be extra satisfying. But no use letting her continue to flail, possibly causing trouble. He shut her up quickly, plunging his sword into her chest, grinning in satisfaction as her vitae spilled on the floor and his suit, her struggling stopping and her words trailing off into strained choking.

When he leaned close, he caught her scent. That vitae that had been dripping onto the floor made him shudder as he breathed it in. What was that? It couldn't have been that he'd found an elder, could it? Unknown to him, he'd pinned down an exceptionally powerful Cainite here, and the potential of this situation hit him instantly. He hadn't even made his decision yet, but his fangs were bared. He licked over them like a wolf. No one would know. No one would care. Why would they? He would gain her power and there would be one less Sabbat in the world to worry about. Something so horrible, so forbidden by every aspect of his own laws... and yet the temptation was unbearable. Rationalization was pointless when there was a much deeper force that wanted this. The woman, paralyzed as she was, seemed to know what he was about to do, and the last thing that filled her eyes, the last thing he saw in her face, was fear. Even better.

He was barely conscious of even making the decision, piercing into her tender neck and drinking of her before he was even aware that he was doing it. It was incredible, her powerful vitae easily the best thing he'd ever tasted. His fingers tensed into her still form, feeling her body slack as he siphoned pure, liquid power from her. She wasn't even within his tastes, but the sick pleasure of what he was doing was too much to resist. He knew he could stop, but he didn't want to. Damn all the consequences. When she became completely drained, her body siezed underneath him, and suddenly he was met with a massive resistance against the pinpricks in her neck. No. She wouldn't escape this. He would have her, all of her. No filthy Sabbat dog would take this moment away from him.

A brief struggle, and it was all over. He pulled away, watching her body slump before it crumbled away into ash. It slipped from his hands, and for a moment all he could do was stare at the dust, every inch of him shaking. He couldn't comprehend much of anything except for the small spark that was burning in his chest. The feeling quickly caused him to double over when it burst into a massive wave, sweeping over his body from within with a heat he hadn't felt since he'd been alive. He couldn't even hear the sounds of his own moans and cries over the raw pleasure that was wracking his mind. Bliss like this shouldn't even be possible, the stolen power sweeping through his veins and settling into his being.

When he could finally understand again, all he could do was laugh. It was a low, growling, animal sound that left his throat, the only thing that could come close to communicating the satisfaction of what he'd done. No regrets. Only power now.