Hunt
Hunt
Warnings: Blood and Gore, Rape, Vampirism, Death, Dark themes
Author's Note: The story written here is not intended for all to read. It is very mature in content as it deserves to be told, and there are several reasons why immature eyes should not come upon the content.
As he watched her inebriated and without inhibition on the dance floor with her small, lithe arms around a male who wanted nothing more from her other than her body, he felt a pang of anger at the situation. Wondered why she let herself be degraded like that.
She was so beautiful, really so enchanting, her features fine and her hair flowing over her shoulders like dark silk, tanned skin that had a healthy glow to it. Her eyes were a piercing green even clouded through the daze of the narcotics and alcohol that laced through her blood. Well brought up too from what he could gather from her mind. Watching her debauched display like that thrilled him, disgusted him. Her perpetually pouty lips were glossed fetchingly, so kissable, and she let a loud laugh, made the vampire looking on shiver, even. Then she leaned in to kiss the male.
This action made him hungry for something, made the vampire want her even more. She wasn’t kissing the male with refinery, her movements sloppy, even, and the vampire nearly wanted to laugh. Embarrassing for her if she were to look upon what she was doing when she was sober.
The male she had latched upon took her gesture as a come-on, and she led herself be pulled away, giggling mindlessly and cooing words into the man’s ear that made the vampire hunger for her, even if those words weren’t intended for him. He wanted for her to whisper those words into his skin intimately, knew he could make her if he wanted her to, but he only followed her and that lecherous man to the back of the club, a private place where he could rape her, defile her body. The vampire wanted to watch this spectacle.
The man she had seduced was half-drunk himself, but he had his bearings about him, and from the bulge in his pants the vampire knew what the man intended to do. The girl just giggled and crushed her breasts to his chest, the man sneaking his hands up her skirt, pulling down her panties. He fumbled with his own zipper, then pulled out his erect cock and simply forced it into her.
She shrieked in pain at the sudden intrusion, the vampire watching on this act impassively, the foul act of rape, and the man began to thrust into her like he was possessed, only caring for his need and nothing else. The girl was starting to become sober from fear, whimpers and cries falling out from her mouth, causing the man to close his hand over her lips and continued to ravage her senselessly. How crude it all seemed, and it made the vampire’s blood boil, heightened his want for the debauched girl, her sweet young blood.
When the man was done satisfying himself he pulled out of her, zipping up his pants and stumbling away, leaving her to slide down to the concrete floor in pain, tears running down her face, her makeup now ruined. She cried to herself, finally regretting what she had done, wondering why she hadn’t been more precautious. Her body was wracked with pitiful sobs and the vampire finally went out from the dark, helping her up to her feet, and righted her clothes.
The girl looked up to him, at his pale face and unnaturally lustrous eyes in wonder, but still crying, burying her face into his chest and uncaring that the saviour might not be who he was. He might have been another rapist like the man before! These thoughts never flickered through her mind, and the vampire was left stroking her hair, letting her cry her anguish.
The mixture of anger and condolence for the girl overcame him, but the vampire never did anything. He helped her walk, and she stumbled in her high heels, making her cry out slightly in pain. He stopped and helped to wipe the blackened tears from her face, kissing her soft cheeks, soothing her with words which meant nothing at all. He easily disguised his lust for her blood. He carried her in his arms, covering her tantalising thighs which were exposed from the way her skirt rode up.
“I’ll make it all better,” he soothed her, pushing her hair out of her face, her body still heaving with sniffles. “Shh… you still have your life, beautiful one.” He regretted nothing at this moment when those lying words slipped past his lips. She nodded and curled in his arms, feeling falsely secure as she looked up at him with green hazy eyes, wondering of this pale and tall gentleman with long lustrous hair that hung down his back.
She finally noticed something through her haze of inebriation and wonder and pain. His hands were so cold, icy, that she could feel it on her even through the clothes which she wore. She had no clue as to where he was bringing her, and then saw the familiar surroundings as the man opened the door. Her apartment…? But how had he known? Again the way his eyes reflected the light caught her attention, held her in thrall of how beautiful he was. She wanted to touch him, but her fingers remained, still curled shyly in the front of his shirt.
He had placed her down on her bed before she could ask anything of it. She stared up at him, still lost, senses dull, looking up at the odd and pale handsome stranger. He sat down beside her, pulling up the covers over her body.
“Who are you?” she asked him in a sweet but hoarse voice, leaning in to the caress of his cold hand on her cheeks, then on her neck, close, closer to where her tantalising pulse was. She shivered from the gentle and cold touches, still staring wonderingly at him, enchanted by his beauty, his perfection, and the way he had came in and saved her… like a prince in a faraway lost fairytale. And he had smiled darkly in return, at her childlike curiosity.
No matter what she had done to make others accept her as an adult, the young girl was still very much the innocent. Acted like a woman, like she was way beyond her years, how charming it all was. And here he was, a predator of the night, who solely derived pleasure from blood drinking, killing, pretending that he was her saviour, when he knew his only intention of doing that was to glut himself on her blood.
“You don’t have to know who I am, beautiful one,” he whispered after several moments of contemplating this situation they were in, how odd it was that he was in this tiny apartment with her, a mere innocent who had been raped. A thought fleeted through his mind that he should seek out that man who had done this to her, drain him the same way he was about to do to her.
But should he? She was so beautiful and had so much potential in life, why should he do it simply on the cravings of his base desires? He wanted her!
Then he smiled at her, beautifully, his generous lips curving to reveal his fangs, and she stared for a moment before gasping, attempting to scramble to her feet and scoot away, run away from this monster. Her heart was throbbing now, the sound luscious to his preternatural hearing. Her face was contorted with fear, and the tears started again.
“W-What are you going to do to me?” she whispered hoarsely, her lips trying to form that word, of what he was, but failing. Vampire. He went over to her and soothed her with touched on her face, then her neck. She whimpered and cried, and she was so beautiful and tempting he just wanted to rip into her throat greedily and drink up all of her essence, leave her nothing but a husk of flesh, nothingness. She was but a mere life to him, for a portent of death that roamed the streets craving for blood for his own survival… the predator that looked like the rest of them. And what was that but the true horror of him? Let them be enchanted by him, his beauty, and they might only be weakened with fear if he knew how many lives he had took in his cursed lifetime.
He saw as he suddenly bared her throat to him, and he looked upon this, puzzled. A change in mind, then?
“Do it,” she whispered, glazed eyes staring at him, and then she smiled, her pink lips pale, curving prettily. Had she wanted this for a long time, then? He searched through her mind, wondering why she wanted this death, and then he understood.
He understood, perfectly. He would give her this, grant her this wish. He leaned in to her jugular, and then pierced her with as much gentleness as he could muster, drinking up her elixir, the crimson throbbing warm liquid, and it flowed into his mouth and he savoured her slow but assured death, lost in her last moments as he took her. He pulled away before her heart stopped beating, unable to breathe for a moment as he saw her smile at him, then her body gave out. She was finally dead.
He stayed there for a moment, motionless, feeling the blood course through him, part of her forever inside him. He closed her lifeless eyes and healed the wound on her neck by nicking his own finger, drawing his own blood over the wound, watching it heal. Then he leaned in to kiss her cold lips.
He left her body like that, positioning her properly, tucking her in as though she was merely going into a sleep. In death she still looked beautiful. He smiled at this sight, then left the apartment, turning around and smiling at the curtained window as though wishing farewell, a rarity it was that his victim that night were taken so willingly. He let loose little laugh, and faded from sight.