The Rapture

We stir from our slumber, limbs entwined, a sense of contentment lingering in the air. A gentle creak breaks the silence, followed by the distinct sound of the front door opening.

Arlo's arm tightens around me, a protective gesture that sends a comforting warmth through me. We slowly untangle ourselves, blinking away the remnants of sleep as we adjust to the returning sounds of the outside world.

"Looks like our time alone is over," Arlo whispers, a hint of amusement in his voice.

I smile, squeezing his hand gently. "It was perfect while it lasted."

I hear the chatter of employees getting ready for the club's opening.

I quickly find and pull on my tank top, the soft fabric a familiar comfort against my skin. "Arlo, have you seen my underwear?" I call out, hoping he's had more luck than me.

"No luck here, Evie!" His voice floats back, followed by the sound of rustling fabric. He emerges from behind a sofa, a pair of jeans in his hand. "Just found these, though."

I sigh, glancing down at my meager finds - a pair of shorts. "Same here. Only managed to grab my shirt and shorts."

We both pause, surveying the chaos of the room. Furniture in disarray and strewn everywhere, a testament to our moment the night before. A wave of embarrassment washes over me, but I quickly push it aside as I return to the task of putting my shorts on.

"Well," I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel, "I guess tank tops and shorts it is. Better than nothing, right?"

Arlo chuckles a warm sound that eases some of my anxiety. "Absolutely. Let's get this cleaned up for the staff before they find out.

I grin back, a surge of adrenaline replacing my embarrassment. "Or anyone at all, for that matter."

"Quick, Arlo!" I whisper urgently, my heart pounding in my chest. We scramble to restore the VIP lounge to its original state, shoving cushions back into place, smoothing out blankets, and hastily picking up any stray items.

One of the couches, unfortunately, seems to have retained a bit more of an indent than it originally had. We exchange a worried glance, but there's no time to fix it now.

Just as we uncover our undergarments tucked away in a corner, the door swings open. A young man, presumably an employee, steps in, his eyes widening in surprise as he takes in the sight of Arlo and me, still slightly disheveled.

"Oh, hey boss," he stammers, clearly caught off guard. "Was just opening up. Glad to see you're here." He pauses, his gaze sweeping over the room. "Was inspecting the place to see if any damage or if anything was missing, as the door was unlocked. But you must have arrived early this evening. Good seeing you."

Arlo, ever the smooth talker, steps forward with a charming smile. "Indeed we did," he replies casually. "Just wanted to get a head start on some planning for the upcoming event. Thanks for checking in."

The employee nods, seemingly satisfied with the explanation. "No problem, boss. Just doing my job. Let me know if you need anything."

With that, he retreats, leaving Arlo and me alone once more. We exchange a relieved sigh, the tension slowly draining from our bodies.

"That was close," I whisper, leaning against Arlo.

He chuckles, wrapping an arm around me. "Too close for comfort. But hey, at least we found our underwear."

I laugh, the absurdity of the situation hitting me. "And that's what matters, right?"

The club is buzzing with activity as the staff readies it for tonight's crowd. Arlo and I pitch in, helping where we can. It's surprisingly fun, working side-by-side, our movements in sync. With everything set and no other plans, we decide to stay.

Sunday nights are always calmer than Saturdays, and tonight is no exception. It's perfect. We curl up in the VIP lounge, the music a comforting pulse beneath our quiet conversation.

Below us, the dance floor is coming alive. Couples sway, groups laugh, and the energy builds. The vibrant scene draws me in. Arlo extends his hand, a playful invitation in his eyes.

"Care for a dance, my love?"

I beam and take his hand. We descend into the crowd, the music guiding our steps. We twirl and laugh, lost in the rhythm. For a while, it's just us, dancing in our little world.

Back in the lounge, two glasses of filled red await us. The sweet, tangy cocktail is the perfect counterpoint to the night's energy. We clink glasses and savor the moment.

A slower song starts, and Arlo pulls me close. His eyes meet mine, and the world seems to melt away. We sway gently, lost in the music and each other. His hand finds mine, our fingers interlacing. He leans in, and his lips brush mine in a soft, sweet kiss.

Time seems to stop. The music, the lights, the dancers below – it all fades away, leaving only Arlo and me, caught in this perfect dance of love.

We settle back into the plush cushions, the music still a gentle hum around us. Arlo's gaze meets mine, his eyes sparkling with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine.

"I love you," he says, his voice a soft caress.

The words tumble from my lips before I can even process them. "I love you too."

A wave of fear washes over me, a cold splash against the warmth of the moment. I wasn't supposed to fall for him. I barely know him. Doubts claw at the edges of my mind, whispering warnings.

But the words are out there now, hanging in the air between us. And as I look into Arlo's eyes, I realize that the future can wait. For now, I want to embrace this feeling, this connection. I want to savor these moments, to lose myself in the present, and to let the future unfold as it may.

Focusing on my aura control. The music thrums through my veins, a symphony of sound that resonates with the kaleidoscope of auras dancing before my eyes. In this dimly lit haven, I'm lost in a world of vibrant energy. The familiar reds of my kind pulse with a primal intensity, while the humans radiate a softer spectrum, a mesmerizing ballet. Each flicker, each shift, tells a story – of joy, of longing, of hidden desires.

Arlo's hand, warm and reassuring in mine, anchors me amidst this sensory overload. I squeeze it gently, a silent acknowledgment of our shared moment.

As we step out of the club, the vibrant symphony fades, replaced by the quieter hum of the night. For the first time, I sense the auras around me without focusing. I look around a painting before me in ethereal hues. The line of eager patrons waiting to enter shimmers with anticipation, their auras a mix of excitement and impatience. Further away, in the shadows of the parking lot, couples entwined in their cars create pockets of passionate red, their auras merging and swirling in a dance of intimacy.

My gaze travels beyond, towards the distant glow of downtown Veritas. The collective energy of the city forms a breathtaking panorama, a tapestry of colors merging and intertwining in a harmonious display. It's a reminder of the interconnectedness of all things, a subtle symphony that plays on even when the music stops.

Then, my eyes settle on the old water tower, its silhouette stark against the night sky. The Nexus, within its structure, pulses with a familiar hidden energy.

The car door clicks shut behind me, the leather seat a welcome embrace after the night's adventures. As Arlo navigates the quiet streets back to his penthouse, my mind buzzes with questions. Curiosity, once dormant, now crackles with newfound energy.

"So what about other Vampire lore," I begin, my voice tinged with a playful inquisitiveness. "Like can we not eat garlic?"

Arlo throws back his head and laughs, the sound of a comforting melody in the stillness of the car. "Garlic is perfectly safe," he assures me, a smile playing on his lips. "I'm not sure where that rumor started. Maybe a vampire just didn't like the taste."

His laughter is contagious, and I find myself grinning in response. "What else you got?" he prompts, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

I pull out my phone and ask curiously, “What are some common vampire weaknesses?”

The screen of my phone illuminates the car's interior as the search engine spits back a list of vampire weaknesses, a jumble of folklore and pop culture references.

Vampires are believed to be a myth but here are some good ways to recognize and dispatch one if you ever have the need:

Sunlight: vampires burst into flames at the first rays of dawn. UV light sources have the same effects so if worried carry a UV light in your purse.

Stakes and decapitation: a gruesome, but effective method.

Holy water and crucifixes: make sure to keep plenty of religious items around you at all times to make sure you are safe.

Garlic and running water: a tried and true method of keeping vampires away from you. It will not kill them but it does prevent them from coming near or wanting to bite you.

Vampires have no souls: Remember to stay away, as these are damned creatures and only care about their sinful ways.

Vampires cannot cross running water: If you are in a forest being changed by a vampire try to cross a stream. Regardless of the size the vampire cannot cross running water.

Vampires have no reflection: a good way to spot a vampire is to hold a mirror to them to see that person has a reflection. If they do not then they are a vampire.

Vampires are partially invisible: a vampire will not cast a shadow on the ground. If you see a person standing under a street lamp without a shadow make sure to walk away from that person. They are a vampire.

I glance up at Arlo, a playful smirk on my lips. "So, what about sunlight? Should I be worried about spontaneous combustion?"

"No spontaneous combustion," Arlo replies with a reassuring smile. "But you'll become very weak very quickly. Death is a possibility, but it's not instantaneous. Still, it's something to be avoided."

I nod, absorbing this new information. The fear of bursting into flames is replaced by a more manageable caution.

"So," I continue, a playful lilt in my voice, "do we then turn shiny like a diamond in the sunlight?"

Arlo's chuckle fills the car once more. "That's one of my favorite rumors," he admits. "It would be nice if it were true, but no, we don't sparkle, unfortunately."

I can't help but laugh at the image of us shimmering like disco balls under the sun. "That would certainly make us stand out," I tease.

"What about stakes to the heart or decapitation?" I press on, my curiosity piqued by the more gruesome aspects of vampire lore.

Arlo's expression turns thoughtful. "Stakes to the heart won't kill us," he explains. "Our hearts don't pump blood the way humans do anymore. It would be incredibly painful, but not fatal. It's likely that vampires of old spread that rumor to make it easier to hunt humans. Imagine having people come after you with chairs instead of actual weapons – much easier to handle."

I can't help but chuckle at the image. "So how do we survive now?" I ask, my mind jumping to the blood bags I'd seen in his fridge. "I mean, I see the medical blood bags, but where does it come from? Do humans donate it to us?"

"Well, not precisely," Arlo admits with a sly grin. "We operate nearly all of the blood-donating clinics in the world. We've built a nice little farm where we tell humans they need to give their blood to save other humans from dying, and they do so willingly."

My eyes widen in surprise. "So the blood is used to save humans, but..." I trail off, the realization dawning on me. “There's always a shortage," I say aloud thinking, “and now I know why, we take it to survive."

Arlo nods a touch of pride in his voice. "Now, decapitation, that's a different story. It'll kill most things. Knights, ghouls, and vampires are all susceptible to decapitation. It won't kill a demon or an angel, though, as they can shapeshift. Their forms aren't physical in the way we think of human bodies."

"And the only way to kill a demon is with a holy relic or divine power in contact with them for over ten seconds," I recall, remembering my lessons.

"Exactly," Arlo confirms. "Angels, as far as I'm aware, cannot be killed."

The weight of this new knowledge settles on me, a reminder of the dangers and complexities of this hidden world I've stumbled into. But amidst the fear, there's also a thrill, a sense of adventure that I can't deny.

"What about holy water?" I inquire, recalling our earlier conversation about relics. "I remember us mentioning that relics have no power over us. I've also heard about running water and how vampires can't cross a river."

Arlo chuckles, shaking his head. "Holy water is harmless, just like any other relic. It's harmful to demons because of the divine aspect. But we are like humans, the first vampire was created by God, so the divine doesn’t harm us. Knights being human also cannot be harmed by the divine power alone. Demons are dead souls that have willingly been crafted by Lucifer in his image that inhabit human bodies.

As for running water," he continues, "that's another myth. We can cross rivers just fine. Perhaps it was conjured up similar to the story of Br’er Rabbit wanting to be thrown into the briar patch."

He pauses, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "It's interesting how these stories evolve. Some are based on a kernel of truth, twisted and exaggerated. Others are just pure imagination, born out of fear and misunderstanding."

"Do vampires have a soul?" I ponder aloud, the question hanging in the air between us. It's a weighty question, one that touches on the essence of our existence.

Arlo's expression turns pensive, his gaze drifting towards the passing scenery. "It's a complex question," he finally admits, his voice thoughtful. "We don't have souls in the traditional human understanding of what a soul is."

He pauses, searching for the right words. "But now that you have seen aura, think of the aura as a soul. Everyone with an arua has a soul, was created in God’s image, even demons."

His words resonate with me, stirring a sense of wonder within. It's a comforting thought, knowing that even in our transformed state, there's still a part of us that endures, a spark that connects us to something greater.

Arlo, continues though, “This belief is well known among knights, angels, and demons as well. The difference is that they all believe we are damned.

"This belief is well-known among knights, angels, and demons as well," Arlo continues, his voice taking on a somber tone. "The difference is that they all believe we are damned from going to heaven. This is the common belief for demons as well, but I am unsure if anyone with a soul is truly barred from entering heaven."

His words hang heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the otherwise lighthearted conversation. The concept of damnation, of being eternally separated from a higher power, is a chilling one. It's a reminder of the prejudice and fear that still surround our kind, even among those who walk a similar path.

I reach for his hand, offering a silent gesture of comfort. "Perhaps," I suggest, my voice hopeful, "it's not about being barred, but about finding a different path. Maybe there's a way for us to redeem ourselves, to prove that even in our transformed state, we're still capable of salvation."

Arlo squeezes my hand, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. "Maybe you're right," he murmurs, a hint of optimism returning to his voice. "Maybe there's still hope for us, even in the face of such ancient beliefs."

The kaleidoscope of colors continues to swirl around me, even as the car purrs along the quiet streets. My mind, still captivated by the mysteries of our existence, races through a list of questions sparked by my earlier internet search.

"I already have experienced the new reflections," I say, a playful lilt in my voice, "but do we also not cast a shadow?"

Arlo glances at me, a curious smile playing on his lips. "Ah, yes, the shadowless vampire. Another classic." He pauses, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in thought. "Actually, yes, we do cast shadows. It's a matter of physics, not magic. Light interacts with matter, and our bodies are still matter, so we cast shadows. However, I wouldn't recommend stepping into direct sunlight to find out."

He gestures towards my own shadow on the seat, cast by the glow of my phone's light. "See? There's your shadow."

He winks at me, and I can't help but grin back. "So, we're shadow puppeteers?"

"Something like that," Arlo chuckles.

The sleek lines of the Obsidian Spire rise before us, a testament to Arlo's influence and power. It's a sight that never fails to leave me breathless, a stark contrast to the quaint charm of Veritas. As we approach, one final question bubbles to the surface, a lingering curiosity fueled by the night's revelations.

"What about silver?" I ask, turning to Arlo. "Can we interact with it? Does a silver dagger kill us?"

A hint of amusement flickers in his eyes. "Silver is perfectly harmless to us," he assures me, a gentle smile gracing his lips. "It's another one of those myths that's been perpetuated over the years. We can touch it, wear it, even eat with silver utensils if we so choose."

He reaches across the console, his fingers brushing mine. "Don't worry, Evie," he says softly, his voice laced with reassurance. "You're safe with me. And besides," he adds with a playful wink, "wouldn't it be a shame to deprive the world of your radiant beauty by hiding you away from all things silver?"

His words, both comforting and teasing, bring a blush to my cheeks. I lean into his touch, a sense of peace settling over me. I feel a sense of belonging, a sense of home.

The door clicks shut behind us, sealing us in the quiet sanctuary of Arlo's apartment. The familiar sight of the whiteboard, its map of nexus points and factions a testament to the hidden world I'm now a part of, draws my attention. The lone desk, once a symbol of my isolation, now stands as a reminder of how much has changed in just two nights. My aura control, once a distant goal, is now a tangible reality.

Intrigued, I drift towards the window, the city lights beckoning me with their kaleidoscopic allure. Without conscious effort, my vision expands beyond the physical realm, revealing a breathtaking tapestry of colors. The shimmering lights blend seamlessly with the auras of countless individuals, a mesmerizing symphony of vibrant hues. Even within the towering Obsidian Spire across the way, I can sense the distinct auras on each floor, a testament to the power and diversity housed within its walls.

I feel Arlo's gaze upon me as he tidies up the whiteboard, his presence a comforting warmth amidst the sensory overload. Turning, I catch him wiping the board clean, his aura – a deep, resonant red-violet – echoing around him like a protective shield.

"Let me help with that," I offer, stepping towards the empty desk. Together, we carry it back to the office, the whiteboard following in Arlo's hands. His eyes linger on me, a silent question in their depths. I can't help but wonder what thoughts are swirling behind that enigmatic gaze.

As I bend over returning the desk to its original location in Arlo’s office. I feel the fabric of my shorts pulling tighter against my ass, accentuating every one of my behind curves and leaving just a thin fabric line teasingly covering my smooth entrance. I feel the cool air against the wetness between my thighs, leaving little hidden from Arlo's hungry gaze.

Even without looking, I can see Arlo’s aura filling with desire burning through the room, fueling the fire within myself. I smirked at Arlo's reaction turning towards him and returning to the whiteboard, giving him a full view of my barely covered cleavage and exposed legs. Hunger in his eyes, his desire surges inside him like an unstoppable force.

I meet Arlo's gaze, a playful curiosity dancing in my eyes. "Do you like what you see?" I ask, a hint of a smile tugging at my lips. The question hangs in the air, charged with a subtle intimacy. I'm not just referring to my physical appearance, but to the vibrant aura that surrounds me, the testament to my newfound power and control. I'm eager to know how he perceives me, this transformed version of myself.

Arlo's eyes soften, a warmth spreading across his features. "You are radiant, my love," he murmurs, his voice a velvety caress against my senses. The sincerity in his words sends a flutter through my heart, a reassurance that my transformation hasn't diminished his affection.

His gaze lingers on me, taking in the subtle shifts of color that dance across my aura. It's a look of wonder, of appreciation, and perhaps even a hint of awe. In that moment, I feel truly seen, not just for my physical form, but for the vibrant energy that now defines me.

A wave of exhaustion washes over me, a gentle reminder of the night's adventures and the emotional rollercoaster that accompanied them. "I'm tired," I confess to Arlo, my voice laced with a soft weariness. "We should both retire to our bed."

I reach for his hand, my fingers intertwining with his. Without waiting for a response, I lead him towards the bedroom. I know Arlo, his innate chivalry and respect would prevent him from making the first move, even in his penthouse. But tonight, I want to take the lead. I want to claim this space, this bed, as ours.

As we enter the dimly lit room, a sense of anticipation hangs in the air. It's a new chapter, a shared intimacy that goes beyond stolen moments in hidden corners. It's a step towards something deeper, something more profound. And as I turn to face Arlo, his eyes mirroring my desire, I know that tonight, we'll forge a connection that transcends the physical, a bond that will forever intertwine our destinies.

The walk-in closet, with its soft lighting and mirrorless walls, becomes our stage for a silent performance. I slip out of my clothes, a sense of liberation washing over me as I discard the remnants of the night's adventures. From the corner of my eye, I catch Arlo's aura, his movements hesitant, almost shy. Despite everything we've shared, a flicker of vulnerability still dances in his eyes.

I select a black teddy from the array of lingerie, the delicate lace a stark contrast to the strength I now possess. As I slip it on, I can't help but watch Arlo's aura. I can feel him shed his clothes, visualizing his revealing physique honed by centuries of existence. He hesitates for a moment, his aura meeting mine. A playful smile curves my lips, a silent acknowledgment of our unspoken bond.

Finally, he pulls on a pair of satin pants, the fabric clinging to his form in a way that makes my heart skip a beat. The air crackles with anticipation, a shared understanding that tonight marks a new beginning, a deeper connection forged in the quiet intimacy of this shared space.

I drift into bed, the warmth of Arlo's body beside me a soothing balm. Entwined in the satin sheets a luxurious cocoon around us. I feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest against my back, the steady rhythm lulling me deeper into sleep.

His hand rests on my chest, a possessive yet tender gesture. I can almost feel his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin, sending shivers of delight through me. I snuggle closer, savoring the feeling of his strength and warmth enveloping me.

A sense of contentment washes over me, there are no worries, no doubts, no lurking dangers. There's just Arlo and me, sharing a moment of pure, unadulterated intimacy.

As I drift further into sleep, a smile graces my lips. The future may be uncertain, but for now, I'm safe in his arms. And that's all that matters.