Sanguina: Rakshasa

By Alica Knight

Most humans have no idea what it's like to miss a meal, let alone endure the vampire's thirst. I can't possibly begin to describe it—anyone who says they can is lying—but I can tell you this.

It's the worst thing you can possibly imagine.

This is why I kill. I drink the blood of the living to ward off that thirst, that need, and I make no apologies for it.

The need for blood is a powerful one, but I have other needs too. Remnants of who I was when I was alive. I like music. I like art. I like a nice warm bed to sleep in, preferably one that's filled.

Tonight I'm hunting for more than just blood.

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An erotic short story set in the Rakshasa universe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Adams
• Release date: Aug 28, 2013
• ISBN: 9781497765382

Book preview

Sanguina

An erotic paranormal short story

set in the Rakshasa universe

A Respectable Businessman Around Town

Women speak two languages - one of which is verbal

- William Shakespeare

Sanguina

Heliópolis favela

São Paulo

Brazil

The favela night smelled of sweat, bodies, dirt, grime, tobacco, gunpowder, spice, roasting meat and rain. I liked those things, so the smell was quite appealing to me, but above the combined symphony of scent it smelled of the one thing I wanted most.

Blood.

Most humans have no idea what it's like to miss a meal, let alone endure the vampire's thirst. I can't possibly begin to describe it—anyone who says they can is lying—but I can tell you this.

It's the worst thing you can possibly imagine.

When I was first freed from my master, I told myself that I wouldn’t drink human blood any more. I would be strong enough to resist. I’d feed off animals, or get a job in a blood bank, or somehow solicit donations. All I needed to do was be strong and everything would be okay.

All that went out the window the first night I didn’t get human blood. You see, you can’t just drink animal blood. It doesn’t work. It’s like eating excrement; the blood congeals in your throat, choking you, and your body screams at you to stop. Even if you can choke it down and then not throw it all back up, you end up with a ten alarm hangover and barely enough strength to hunt. It’s unnatural.

This is why I kill. I drink the blood of the living to ward off that thirst, that need, and I make no apologies for it. The conversion of a human from flesh and blood to a drinker induces a form of psychopathy, a bored disengagement from the living that's hard to explain. The closest analogy I can think of is cows.

Humans don't hate cows. They might find them cute, even adorable, and some are very attached to them.

But humans eat cows. They