Dara

chapter 1

 Revised, edited, and ghostwrote by@/heyMula 

"One, Two, three..." I whispered in his face, gently and sensually caressing his lips with my index. Staring straight in his beautiful eyes. I couldn't resist the little smirk that imprinted itself on my face.

He was beautiful, breathtaking, truly an angel.

"Y-y-you" he painfully stuttered, trying his best to form an understandable sentence, but beautifully failed. How can everything this man is doing to try to save his life, proceed to bring me such joy and peace. He struggled opening his mouth and even more so to produce any sound.

Isn't that cute?

"W-why" he continued and finally succeeded in forming a comprehensible word. His pale hands desperately made their way to my hand that was slowly caressing the left side of his chest, my nails leaving scratch marks with each stroke.

The poor guy was trying his best. I could easily pull his heart right out of his chest. Oh, how I love the look of desperation in his eyes; the silent tears running down his cheeks; The way his eyes dilated when he realized he will no longer be able to hear his children call him father. No longer see his wife waiting for him at home after a busy day at work.

I love the look his face shifts into once realization rattles his bones– death is but a knock away, kissing patiently at his flesh . A delightful crimson liquid was freely flowing out of his mouth and pupils. The smell, I internally moan. The aroma was– without a doubt– intoxicating. Invigorating.

Lovely, even.

"Four, five, six, seven," I sang, slightly rocking my body from left to right. Swaying like a mother nursing her misbehaved child. Broken sobs left his quivering lips, shaky pats and trembling hands framing his tired body.

I slid my finger down. Lips... neck...trailing ghostly lines across his flesh; goosebumps prodding the surface. Down from his neck, etching shapes and lines into his bare chest, down to his arm, striding over his injured arm that grasped needily at mine; prying and scratching into my skin.

Which, might I add, looked tempting enough to lay kisses against– hungrily enough, suck on. I wrapped my fingers around his neck after kissing his jugular vein; running my bloodthirsty tongue over the sensitive skin I so desperately wished to sink my teeth into. My touch was gentle. Nurturing, even. Until it wasn't. Until my fingers were digging deep, angry crescent shapes into the supple flesh of his throat.

My opposite hand caressed his pale face, my eyes peering down at him as I watched life itself escape his muddy eyes. It'll be alright, my angel. Just a few more seconds to go. You'll be at peace.

How exciting!

"Nine... ten" His head dropped.

Angel, that's what they disguise themselves as. They are my angels. Mine to destroy. Mine alone.

I couldn't help the grin which masked itself on my face . Was it that easy? I thought he would have lasted longer; begged longer. I didn't have the honor of hearing a scream tear those lips. A let down is what it surely was. I dart my eyes around my surroundings– Scanning and undressing the room under my gaze. Bubbly maroon painted furniture and wood in bright splotches, and this living room was no exception.

The couch was torn apart, cotton and fabric guts spilling from the large gashes. The table was shattered in thousands of pieces— shards of glass litter the shellacked hardwood floor of the mansion. Some ragged shards dug deep into my Angels skin, but I'm sure he doesn't mind. Not now, at least. He looks absolutely alluring lying there in his own pool of blood.