The night air wrapped around Alaric like a cloak as he moved stealthily through the aftermath of his slaughter. The soft, desperate breaths drew him deeper into the shadows of the village, each inhale like a siren's song luring him closer to its source.
Alaric found himself at the edge of the village, where the flickering light of a dying lantern illuminated the figure cowering in the alleyway. It was a man, his frame trembling, dark hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. The scent of fear was beautiful, and it mingled with the blood that coated Alaric's body, enhancing the hunger that surged within him.
Without a sound, Alaric stepped into the light, his presence eclipsing the flickering lantern. The man looked up, wide-eyed, and Alaric's breath caught in his throat, something animalistic stirring deep within him. The man was drenched in blood, his shirt clinging to his lean, muscled frame, but it wasn't the gore that captivated Alaric—it was the raw beauty beneath it. His cheekbones were sharp, his jawline sculpted with an almost perfect precision, giving his face a striking, chiseled look. His lips, parted in shock, were full and flushed, while his eyes, wide and shimmering like liquid onyx, seemed to draw Alaric in, pulling him deeper into something he hadn't felt in centuries.
The blood, staining the man's shirt and skin, only seemed to enhance the allure of his body, outlining the strength hidden beneath the surface. There was an elegance in the way he stood, even in his shock, a grace Alaric couldn't ignore. His dark hair, matted with blood, curled around his ears and along his forehead, framing a face that was equal parts beauty and danger. Alaric could feel his heart pounding faster—a sensation foreign to him for so long—as he studied the man's every feature.
"Please," the man stammered, backing away until he was pressed against the cool stone wall. "I meant you no harm."
Alaric chuckled darkly, a sound that reverberated through the alleyway. "Oh, but harm is what I crave," he replied, his voice smooth and seductive, dripping with menace. He took a step forward, closing the distance between them, and the man flinched, his eyes darting toward the path of escape.
But Alaric wasn't here to let him go.
With a swift movement, Alaric lunged, his hand gripping the man's collar and yanking him into the moonlight. The sudden exposure illuminated the man's face more, revealing his stained lips and the remnants of blood that clung to his skin—evidence of a struggle, perhaps, or a feast of his own. Alaric couldn't help but chuckle at the sight, a twisted recognition sparking in his chest.
"What a mess you are," Alaric said, tilting his head as he examined the man. "Have you been playing with the mortals tonight?"
The man's eyes widened further as he struggled against Alaric's grip.Alaric could sense it, the allure of another creature of the night
Alaric's lips curved into a slow, predatory smile as he tightened his grip on the man's collar, dragging him closer until their bodies almost touched. He could feel the tremor in the man's chest, the ragged breaths that quickened the air between them.
The man, whose name Alaric didn't care to know, shuddered as their eyes locked, dark and piercing. His pulse throbbed visibly in his neck, and Alaric felt the sharp twinge of desire in his own veins, an ache that coiled like a serpent in his gut. He leaned in closer, their faces inches apart, and whispered, his voice low, silky, and dangerous.
"Do you know what happens next?" Alaric's breath ghosted over the man's skin, and he felt the delicious ripple of tension that followed, like the spark before a fire ignites.
The man's lips parted, but no words came out—just shallow breaths, mingling with the scent of his lingering fear. Alaric inhaled deeply, savoring it. Slowly, he brought his mouth to the man's neck, hovering just above the pulse that throbbed so wildly beneath the thin layer of skin. His teeth grazed the surface but didn't break through, teasing, letting the moment hang between them like a suspended blade.
The man's breath hitched, his body stiffening under the weight of Alaric's mouth. He could feel the pulse now, faint but persistent, and beneath it, the heady scent of old blood. But it wasn't enough to distract Alaric from what he wanted.
"Still alive," Alaric murmured, the tip of his tongue flicking out to taste the sweat on the man's neck, slow and deliberate. His body responded to the taste—the warmth of skin, the faint hum of a pulse, and the promise of something more. His fingers tangled into the man's hair, yanking his head back to expose the vulnerable expanse of throat.
The man gasped, but it wasn't entirely fear now. Alaric could feel it—the subtle shift, the way the man's body softened into his grip. There was something else here, a surrender that excited Alaric in ways he hadn't expected. His lips trailed up to the man's ear, his breath hot and tantalizing.
"Do you want this?" Alaric purred.
There was no protest, only the trembling tension that sang between them as Alaric opened his mouth wider, teeth glistening in the pale moonlight. He could feel the man's body tensing, anticipating the bite, and it sent a thrill coursing through Alaric's core.
With a slow, deliberate motion, Alaric sank his sharp teeth deep into the man's neck, breaking the skin with a careful precision that sent a jolt through both their bodies. Warm blood flowed over his tongue, rich and intoxicating. The man's body jerked against him, a soft gasp escaping his lips, but instead of struggling, he sagged into Alaric, helpless and yielding.
Alaric's grip tightened, pulling the man closer, his mouth latched onto the wound as he drank deeply. The heady mix of blood and the man's quiet, almost breathless moans fueled him. There was something erotic about the way his victim trembled, the way his body reacted to every pull of Alaric's lips.
He didn't stop until the pulse beneath his mouth slowed, a rhythm matching the languid satisfaction coursing through him. Finally, he pulled back, licking the wound clean with a tenderness that seemed out of place. The man's head lolled against the wall, his breath shallow but still present, his body limp in Alaric's arms.
Alaric wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his gaze lingering on the man's half-lidded eyes, glazed over in a haze of pain and pleasure. He bent down one last time, pressing his lips to the man's neck, whispering against the fading pulse.
"Such a lovely mess."
Alaric's shark like teeth retracted slowly, the taste of the trembling vampire's cold blood lingering on his tongue. He pulled back, his grip loosening as Eric's limp body sagged against the wall. Something had stopped him —an unfamiliar voice in the back of his mind, whispering for him to halt before he had taken it too far.
For the first time in ages, Alaric listened.
With a sneer, he shoved Eric back, watching as the vampire slid to the ground, practically bursting with fear. Eric's pale face was ashen, his eyes wide, darting between Alaric's bloody lips and the ground, as if searching for any escape from the nightmare before him. His chest heaved as he gasped for air, too terrified to make a sound.
"W-what are you?" Eric croaked, his voice cracking from the strain. His trembling hands clutched his throat, which still throbbed from the deep bite Alaric had left behind. "A-are you... a vampire like me?"
Alaric's laugh was low and cold, his lips curling into a cruel smirk. He leaned in closer, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement. "A vampire like you?" he echoed, his voice dripping with disdain.
Eric's breath hitched as Alaric's piercing gaze bore into him, unblinking and unreadable. "No," Alaric sneered, his lip curling as though the very idea disgusted him. "I don't know *what* I am... but I do know this—I'm no vampire."
Eric's eyes widened, the fear in them deepening, his lips trembling as he tried to process what Alaric had just said. "But... but you drink blood. You—"
"That doesn't make me one of you," Alaric interrupted, his voice sharp, silencing Eric with a flick of his gaze. "I am something else... something more." He paused, his expression turning darker, almost introspective. "I'm not human. And I'm certainly not one of your kind." His eyes flicked over Eric's pitiful form, disgust mixing with curiosity. "Whatever I am… it's beyond your understanding."
Eric swallowed hard, his mouth opening and closing as he searched for words. He shifted slightly, the movement almost imperceptible, but it didn't escape Alaric's notice. Fear still poured off him in waves, and yet, somewhere deep down, the vampire was trying to summon the courage to speak.
"I... I'm sorry," Eric whispered, his voice barely audible, as though speaking any louder might anger the monster before him. "I didn't mean to... I didn't know you were—"
"Stop talking," Alaric growled, cutting him off again. He grabbed Eric by the chin, forcing him to look up into his eyes. "You fed from me. You awoke something that was better left undisturbed."
Eric flinched at the touch, his entire body shaking violently as he whimpered, unable to break away from Alaric's grip. "W-what... what will you do to me?"
Alaric's lips curled into a sinister smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. He stared at Eric for a long moment, his fingers tightening just enough to make the smaller vampire wince. "What indeed..." he whispered. He leaned in close again, his breath hot against Eric's ear. "But for now, I'll let you live."
Eric blinked, confusion mixing with the fear that still held him captive. "Wh-why?"
Alaric released his grip on Eric's chin and straightened, his expression unreadable as he took a step back. "Because…" he paused, his eyes glittering dangerously, "…there are worse things in this world than dying." His smirk widened, a look of dark amusement crossing his face. "And you've given me something much more valuable than your life."