Vampire Faces Zombie Apocalypse

"You're so beautiful," Owen whispered as Nagla climbed on top of him, a bronze-skinned, raven-haired, red-eyed, sharp-fanged, feral beauty. The monstrous feminine in all of her glory. Nagla grinned, and then bit her wrist, drawing blood. When she pressed her wrist against his lips, Owen drank without hesitation. Afterwards, he offered his neck to Nagla, a fledgling offering himself up to his Maker.

"You're my finest creation in the three centuries since I became a Vampire in Beirut," Nagla replied, before drinking from Owen's neck. As their undying essences merged, so did their bodies. Nagla moaned softly as Owen caressed her breasts, and giggled as he grasped her thick derriere, and squeezed it. Nagla grasped his long, hard dick and stroked it, and then took him into her mouth. Owen sighed happily as Nagla flashed him her disturbing, fanged smile, then began sucking him off.

"Fuck me," Nagla ordered as she got on all fours, presenting her ample derriere and dangerously curvy body to her creation, and chosen male. Owen positioned himself behind her, and stroked his hardness as Nagla shook her big beautiful bum for him, and he smiled, loving what he was beholding, and eased himself into her. Nagla's cold pussy gripped Owen's hard dick, and he gripped her hips and began fucking her, hard.

"You're pure fire, Nagla," Owen said, panting as he rammed his dick into her. Nagla's screams of passion echoed through the forest. Owen went to town on her, gripping her long dark hair, spanking her thick ass and slamming his dick into her. Cold flesh against cold flesh, the non-breathing lovers fucked and sucked the night away, and only stopped because dawn was approaching, and they needed to be in darkness when it arrived.

Up in the rafters, Owen Stephenson, biracial country-dude-turned-Vampire, smiled wistfully. Memories were a beautiful thing, especially when enhanced by his predatory brain's perfect recall. Although it really sucked to be a Vampire during the Zombie apocalypse, it wasn't all bad. Things could definitely be worse. If it weren't for Nagla he would have been dead for sure, torn to pieces and eaten by those Zombies that swarmed the Rapid City refuge. He glanced at Nagla, who slept to his right, and then at Rex and Sasha. His companions were fast asleep, as is to be expected of most Vampires during the daylight hours.

Owen thought about something which had become all too evident to him, and wondered if a centuries-old Vampire like his dear Maker, the lovely and fearsome Nagla Haddad, would anticipate the move he'd been contemplating in recent weeks. Tonight, they would hunt and he would damn well make sure that he gave them the slip, because when food is scarce, predators turn against one another. Owen didn't plan on sticking around long enough to get stuck in the middle when his starving pack decided to tear each other to pieces.

Vampires are predators, and at the end of the day, they were no different from any other breed of predators whose prey had become scarce. The Zombies had probably devoured the last surviving humans in South Dakota. Owen knew that he and the others wouldn't find anyone to eat. Owen intended to ditch his pack, peacefully if possible, and strike out on his own. Divide and survive was a sound strategy in desperate times. Banding together only made sense if there was enough food to sustain them all. He'd go to Canada, or perhaps Mexico. The pickings had to be better in those places than in South Dakota.