Lonesome, this night of early autumn bloom—
The young kept to their viral lifestyle, where he would find his dine among sweat and sin. He made his way down the dance floor, snaking past potential prey with his head high, fangs down low. The cult in him continued to bite at his hunger, but he wanted not to rouse a herd of sheep among a pack of disguised wolves in this, ballroom bliss.
The chants and chatter intertwined with vibrant dancing lights and booming electric tunes, enough to detour his objective. But his nose burned at her scent, and he followed her call down a stream of warm bodies.
Such a boundless selection, enough to break his carnal craving into revelation. But his senses surrendered to one sheep in particular. And there she was, graceful and slender, a true show of entertainment from behind the haze. The vixen would seduce him too with dance, leaving his hanging lips parched. It hadn't taken much to lure her from the huddle of hungry men. After all, he dressed the profile of an Adonis quite flawlessly; long black framing hair, pointed nose, gentle eyes, muscular undertones—there had yet been a woman to deny his appeal, and she wouldn't be the first.
He escorted her thereafter, his noble charm a devil man's ordnance.
His loft was no stranger to his nightly guests, catering to young and old women alike. There was no bias, except for a certain liking to the elfin race. Mounted as a centerpiece to his draped chamber, his prize continued to thrash from reversed suspension, persistent in her hopes of escape. With her wrists chafed from writhing, and her ceaseless screams behind taped lips, she did nothing more but entertain her eager host.
Her elfin skin, dressed in a veil of flesh red, glistened under the peeping moonlight. He would drink in her desperation, aroused by her frail teenage innocence. He bent low on his knees, looking down at her dangling upturned head with intimidation. The demon's eyes penetrated her skin, absorbing every pore, every bead of sweat, every slither of blood.
"Why do you fight?" His mocking words quelled her screams as he stared at her wet, blood-shot eyes, her torn naked body tied against the metal shaft. The demon leaned in, her breaths turning shallow at his bare blood-tinted fangs.
Instantly, her body jerked and the silence between them shattered with a gargling plea for mercy.
There was no better feeling to cater to.
Such an appetite, one like no other. He left her with a cynical smirk before fixing himself erect, facing the innards of the bedroom. "At this rate, my dear, you should be begging for death." He stripped off his long-vested jacket, and unbuttoned his cuff-links. "Well, we all have our weaknesses, don't we? You, the lust of a teenage girl, and I, a vital need to feed on flesh. Well, a weakness much welcomed," he scoffed, his folded arms pacing behind him.
"Victimized by ill-bred vengeance... You see, she birthed me, and just as quickly, killed me. I want to return the favor. Because of her, I am what you see here before you—damned, a mere shadow of a soul. Don't get me wrong, there is pleasure to be had in this lifestyle; my only sorrow is that this wasn't my decision... "
The goth-like chamber had a pungent odor, and the taste of near decay. He bent over her once more, his now sanguine eyes staring down at her flailing head. "Such a feeble child. So fragile in the face of death. Dearest... why don't I give you the choice I was never given?"
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Dessa: Spirit of VengeanceFantasy
ᴴᵉᵃᵛʸ ˡᵃⁿᵍᵘᵃᵍᵉ ᵉˣᵖˡᵒʳᵉᵈ⋆✦⋆ ᴬᵈᵘˡᵗ ᵗʰᵉᵐᵉˢ ᵉˣᵖˡᵒʳᵉᵈ⋆✦⋆ᴬˡˡ ʳᶦᵍʰᵗˢ ʳᵉˢᵉʳᵛᵉᵈ With a never ceasing battle between the damned and the inhabitants of Khorgathe, young Syreene and her elder sibling Cabil find that living a mellow lifestyle is far beyond their...