Vampire King’s Little Killer

Lust:

1 : usually intense or unbridled sexual desire : lasciviousness 2a : an intense longing : b : enthusiasm, eagerness. 3 obsolete. a : pleasure, delight.

Tessa

The feeling stayed, I knew someone was watching me. The whole fucking night. I was not threatened, but I was so goddamn curious. Until the man showed himself the second my assailants were trying to mug and force me to hand them the keys to my bike. I almost laugh if not for the mysterious man who decided to step out of the shadows.

Well… well…Original from NôvelDrama.Org.

The guy was dressed in all black, my favorite color. He was tall and pale, so fucking pale that I could almost see the veins on his flawless face. His eyes were so strikingly intense, it was like he was poking into my soul. Weird.

The man looked poised, and elegant as if he was too cool for the parking lot. He seemed like he belonged in a Venetian mansion, all dark, pale and mysterious.

His gaze was studying me, he did not interrupt as I handle the two lame guys and sent them out of town because I didn’t want to deal with their dead bodies. Not when I have the finest-looking man I’ve seen since… well, forever.

“You’ve been watching me all night.” I went straight to accusing him because I know he did. His cool gaze sipped into my insides, sending a warm tingling feeling that I never thought I had.

“I have,”

“Who sent you?” I asked and raised an eyebrow when he said that no one had sent him.

“Then why?” I was intrigued. I remain in my spot, truly curious about the guy and honestly, I was half trying to strip the guy naked in my mind.

I did not fear him, not with the way he was blatantly checking me out. The answer to my question was not something I care about at the moment. It won’t be the first time the mob sent someone to check me out on my job. Though I usually managed to shake them off, apparently not this guy. This guy was like a ghost, I felt him but couldn’t fucking see him. He was that good, I’ll give him that.

“Your bloodlust,” he stated, closing our distance. I was not at all threatened by his forwardness, by the fact that he had watched me kill a guy and disposed of his body then sent two thugs away after their well-deserved beatings. My heart was pounding faster, I could feel it. His aura was demanding, though I didn’t succumb to him. Well, not without a strong will. Somehow his appearance rattled my thoughts, and fuck… it was an eye-opening one. Didn’t think someone had that kind of pull over me.

“You watched me having sex,” I was failing to calm my heartbeat as his gaze still latched on to mine. Then he lowered himself down to smell my neck and it made my heart jump a bit too excitedly.

“I watched you orgasmed, yes, I could offer you a harder one than your boy toy.”

I didn’t know what to say to him so I laughed and pushed him back instead. I needed to control my heartbeat, I needed to calm the fuck down, this guy shouldn’t be able to make me feel stuff. I am not that person, I don’t feel stuff.

“Take me back to your place, invite me in.” He tugged my waist flat to his body making me feel his hard cock.

“I don’t know who you think you are, but you’re out of your mind.” I spat my words but didn’t say anything when he took my wrist while his other hand was holding my backside. The man was keeping me still. So I stayed, though I still didn’t know how he made me do it. It was a loose hold and my curiosity won when I let him, my eyes darted to his finely shaped lips as I let them latch to my wrist.

The piercing sensation confused me for a fraction of a second before my composure slipped and I let out a pathetic gasp when I feel the most damn sensation as if he was sucking on my blood. It was a freaky feeling, was it a new kind of fetish that I didn’t know about? Should let him keep on sucking blood from my wrist? Is he really sucking blood from my wrist?

My brain was busy trying to figure the guy out while my inside was definitely horny for him. Damn. And then he stopped, dared to smile at me, and licked my wrist.

What the… Where’s the wound? I was sure that he punctured and sucked my blood. I was still questioning his ways, confused, maybe a bit dazed but I was proud of myself that I stayed still when he backed away.

“I can give you more. Invite me when I knock on your door. Until next time, my little killer.” He obnoxiously purred as he gave me a fucking nickname, then he moved back and disappeared from my view.

“Fuck, what the hell?” I cursed and looked out to the shadows where he disappeared into. Shaking the daze out of my stance when I walked home to my apartment.

I thought I had the sexual urge fucked out of my system less than an hour ago. I always get horny after a kill. The guy from the club was an okay fuck, I climaxed and I left, that should’ve satisfied my needs.

So why the hell couldn’t I control myself?

It was almost dawn, I was probably too tired. It had been a very long day for me. I took a quick shower moments after I reached my apartment, then put on shorts and a t-shirt. But sleep didn’t come easily as it should, so I decided to go to my studio making myself cozy at the drawing table.

His face was the first thing I started to outline, then his eyebrows. My fingers gripped the pencil with ease, my wrist moved with precision finding its rhythm and started drawing creases, longer than shorter points. His intense eyes were next, they looked bored yet particularly intense at the same time. I paused, took a deep breath, and rested back in my seat. I reached my side table and poured the golden liquid, savoring the burn in my throat.

Closing my eyes, I focused to remember his details while drinking my glass of brandy. The man had long hair, shoulder length, and he styled it classically with a low ponytail. When other guys make them look girly, there was nothing girly about the mysterious man. I didn’t even hesitate with the details, there was nothing subtle in his gaze. It was evident that he wanted me, and he was not shy about expressing it.

Damn…

Another deep breath later I shook my head then moved his sketch aside and started drawing my latest victim instead. Willing my mind to think about my latest kill, I started sketching, fast. The lines, the shape of his slouched body, and the fear show his level of stress without showing off his face. The blood dripping from his stomach made them perfectly in line with the moment his life was slipping away. My wrist moves hurriedly, line after line, shading, shaping Rudy the tattletale. The coloring comes next, then I decided to stop when my back felt too tired to continue.

I was a hyper-realistic drawing artist in real life. There were people out there waiting for my newest creation. I had followers, and collectors, who knew they were real-life drawings. Those sick wannabe killers made my life easier when they were willing to pay a crazy amount of money for my creations. I was known for my dark arts, lots of blood, decapitations, and violence, all cringing effects for first-timers. But for those who have the thirst, they seek me out privately and I rarely had my drawings on display for long since they would quickly sell off once I put them on my web.

Maybe I should draw the mysterious man. Maybe next time. For now, I need sleep. I got another big job coming up in a couple of more hours. I need my rest, and I finally smile when my body relaxes and my eyes were getting heavy.