LITMIR.BIZ

      Temptation filled the dark lounge–half-clad human females danced in the center prancing for the zombies, who circled this evening’s “dishes.” Jaw clenched, Vaihan gripped his glass with a shaky hand. Sure, the government provided his kind cloned meat, but taste didn’t factor in. “I can’t believe it’s cloned human” was false advertising.

      A petite blonde glanced his way for the third time and smiled. As she ground her hips to the rhythm of the music, her purple, skintight minidress hiked up her thighs.

      He lifted the Lagavulin Scotch with an ounce of pureed organs mix to his lips and downed the contents to quiet the ache at the pit of his stomach. The smoky peat-and-metallic flavor of the dense liquid coated his tongue. Such concoctions helped keep the cravings at bay. However, the elixir only curbed the urge to taste flesh temporarily. The mouthwatering aroma of healthy humans permeated each breath, waking the “urge.”

      He slammed his glass down on the bar and headed for the door. It wasn’t easy to be The Undead Poster Boy, when he too, struggled to keep his other needs caged.

      The blonde stepped in his path. “Leaving?” Between the mounds of breasts, her cleavage was a deep gorge. She curled her lips upward on one side in what she likely hoped was a seductive smile.

      “I’m stepping out a moment.” If she was legal, he’d guess barely. Not worth the risk. Not after every sacrifice he’d made the past thirty years.

      “My place or yours?” Need beamed at him in her green eyes. Blue LED lights ran in tubes on the ceiling, flooding her youthful flesh. The bass of trance music thumped at the rate of a victim’s heartbeat when panic set in. An undead never tamed the predator inside.

      “Neither.” Tonight she’d find a fix, but not from him. Others of his kind enjoyed toying with their food. He found such activities distasteful, so these types of clubs weren’t his scene. In the corner, a zombie licked a brunette’s neck and slid his hand up her skirt. Tasting the living didn’t hurt, but left an undead in a state much like blue balls. Her lips parted in a gasp as she rested her head on the wall behind her. An addict, no doubt.

      “You sure?” The blonde leaned into Vaihan, pressing herself to his crotch.

      Heat from her hip stroked his length, rousing suppressed need. He huffed. Maybe some were more easily swayed. He stepped back.

      With wide eyes, she glanced up. “Holy Mother of God, and you’re not even hard.”

      “Correct.” Clueless would understate her aptitude. The human females in this bar had no clue what they were getting themselves into. So many tasty treats were scattered about the room offering themselves up for a hit of Z-Luv, the neurotoxin zombies produced in their saliva, blood and semen, which paralyzed their victims in a state of pleasure until the feeding began. In this place, even the oldest of Ancient undead would suffer. Once a human was hooked, they spiraled out of control, losing their appeal. He enjoyed a more responsive lover in and out of bed rather than one half-baked out of her mind. Perhaps he should show her.

      Vaihan took her hand. “Come.” The only way to wake her out of her naive belief was to introduce her to the burnouts, those wasting away on the addiction.

      She spread her lips, showing off her pretty pearly smile. “You can fuck me in the stairwell if you like.”

      Not quite what he had in mind. He opened the door at the back and tugged her upstairs. Down the narrow hall, he entered a large dark room above the club.

      Women were scattered on mattresses, naked, reaching out to him. “More. More,” they pleaded, moaning.

      None of them should have been used this way. “This too can be you, beauty.” Vaihan leaned in to her ear. “I can be your enchanted Prince Charming and the Beast.” He’d rescued the women from a sex den he’d shut down last week. “One taste is all it takes. Just like them, you too could be paralyzed, used for sex and consumed to the point of scarring.” All of which were illegal. Zombies weren’t the only ones running such establishments.

      “More. More.” They reached for him.

      Errol, the owner of this club, Safe Haven, ran a clean joint. No more than a pin drop of Z-Luv for the human clients, or a zombie wasn’t welcome back. The fellow Ancient, Errol, helped by taking in the women who weren’t welcomed home by their families. He did what he could to assist those misused by Ancients.

      Vaihan grabbed her, spun and pulled her near. Suspending his mouth an inch above hers, he inhaled the scent of her fear. “Taste heaven.” For a hundred years, his mind had been filled with primal impulses. “The urge” had engulfed him in darkness. Blessed with overaccelerated metabolisms, undead needed nutrition only human meat could provide for continued rejuvenation. Ridiculous stories of body parts coming off had been spawned from the early process of renewal. Every cell in their body regenerated. Like a snake, undead shed their old skin. Once that occurred, immortality was his at a price more costly than his IRS tax bill. Gradually the “urge” had diminished. Through his lifetime, many young were arrested, tried and executed for cannibalism. Ancients with a conscience, like him, were over a hundred years old, forced to live endlessly with their misdeeds.

      She pushed his chest, lips contorted in disgust, and turned then ran down the stairs.

      No good deed went unpunished.

      In the back of the room, Dominique, Errol’s partner sat in a rocking chair.

      “Was it something I said, Dom?” Vaihan shrugged. “How are my fighters?”

      Dominique had been rescued five years ago. During her recovery, love or lust had sparked between the two. Now, one was never far from the other.

      “Same as they were the two other times you called today. Improving,” she said.

      So, shoot him. He’d followed up to make sure the women were safe and recovering.

      “Especially the youngest one. She is only fourteen.” Dominique sighed. “What’s wrong with some people?”

      “Not people. Monsters. They come in all forms.” If only he knew the answer to her question,

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