Pet Information

Pet Name: Snowfire
Owner: SorrelTail
Theme / Type: Wintercursed Haruba
Born: June 4, 2008
Gender: Male
Mood: Mad

MisticPal Name: Wolf
MisticPal Age: 3957 Days

Battle Portal Stats

Level: 5
Hit Points: 0 / 30
Strength: 17
Defense: 3
Speed: 19
Intellect: 16
Misticpower: 30

Battles Won: 169
Battles Lost: 15

Attached Weapons

Books Read

Books Read: 9/373 [ View Books ]

Exotic Foods Eaten

Foods Eaten: 35/1254 [ View Foods ]

Alexander Night

Box Windercursed At 8:10 Mistic Time on Saturday, November 26, 2011.
Thanks to the AMAZING Sherry.

Name: Alexander Night
Gender: Male
Age: 17
Height: 5'8
Weight: 155 pounds

Appearance:
Hair: Black 'Emo' style with ocean blue tips
Eyes: Piercing Blue
His lip is pierced.
Image: Is a general idea of Alexander's looks.

Picture of Alex Evans
Clothing: Black Jeans, Black Tee with blue designs. And a pair of Black Converse. And when its cold a black jacket.

Alexander Night

Coming back from another long day at work, I walked the streets of a bustling city, freshly dampened with an autumn rain. There would be no one waiting for me when I got home. The flickering street lights and speeding cars were far too busy to notice me as I trudged silently along.

Today was my birthday, this October 31st, and there would be no one here to celebrate it with.

Of course, I had no friends at my old school. I was more often than not ridiculed for my taste in color. Or rather a lack of.

I was hardly pulled away from my thoughts as I mindlessly strolled around an obvious puddle of murky water, careful not to get my black Converses or like-colored jeans wet.

Everything I wore was black. Of course I knew that. Everyone who ever tried to beat me down would point that out first. What was to be expected? As if the world could come up with something a little more original.

Ignorance can be a blissful thing, but it also has it's downsides. I know this first hand.

Besides, even if I did have any friends, there, it's not like I could just call them up. Not after I ran away.

Then again, if I wore something besides black, maybe I'd actually have friends?

But that would be denying myself of who I truly was. Besides, the last kind of person I want hanging around is someone who judges based on clothing and hairstyle.

Yeah, the hair too.

I let the dark, blue-tipped bangs sweep over my electric blue eyes as I cast my head down, lost in my own thought.

It's not just pride, though (which I have a severe lack of). No, I've been wearing black ever since my foster dad started drinking.

It was an okay family before that, though. I remember when my real parents died in that fire... That was when I was around five. I was so devastated. What's worse, I had no other family, so I was orphaned. I was adopted not long after.

The "plish plosh" of footsteps on damp concrete slowed into a steady rhythm, almost like a metronome as my mind drifted back to the darkest corner of my mind.

Everything was happier, even then. They treated me well enough but... I missed them. My real family, now lost in the ashes of a timeless past.

After six years or so, by the time he turned twelve, the responsibility of a parent finally caught up to him, I guess. I can't find another reason why he would drown himself in alcohol the way he did. Life after that happened became difficult to bear. When I started wearing black and painting my nails in the same manner, I was harassed to new extremes, constantly being pushed to my emotional limit. I never saw hatred the way I knew it then and now. This was why I was supposed to enjoy childhood while it lasted. How could I be so ignorant?

And then, when I got home, I would suffer his drunken wrath. I was beaten and abused. He would yell and scream, calling me worthless and good for nothing. On a particularly bad night he ranted on about how he hadn't known why I was even adopted.

That night I limped for weeks. Even the school bullies seemed to take some pity on me and beat me with less intensity after that.

I felt that familiar itch of a metal blade brushing lightly against my leg through my pants pocket. I wanted to suddenly feel the edge of that knife running sharply against my wrist with unparallelled fluidity. To cut myself.

It started when I was thirteen, the cutting thing. It felt nice to drag my attention away from the emotional pain to a physical one. It gave me a distraction. I knew I was giving myself a choice. I was doing it to myself. Somehow, when it was me giving the injuries to myself, it felt... relieving.

It was shallow cuts at first. Maybe once... twice a week? But as the pain grew worse, and the beatings more violent, I was tempted to draw deeper, larger incisions two or three times a day. Finally, at about 15, I couldn't take it anymore...

So I left.

It was for the best. They never filed a missing child's report. They didn't seem to notice that I left in the first place. Maybe my step-mom thought it for the best. Maybe she felt bad for having stayed there for so long.

Or maybe she felt the same way he did?

I don't know anymore.

I don't care.

I've got a job, now. My own apartment. A place I can come home to and not feel like an unwanted mutt. I didn't got to school, anymore, so I wasn't beaten. At least no one tried anything at work. They would be fired.

Not saying they wouldn't when given the chance.

It's been two years since then. I have my own life now. I'm seventeen, I'll be getting my license soon. I'm getting better, I guess.

But I'm still... missing.

"Hey, kid."

A deep baritone jerked me away from my reverie. I stopped in my tracks and whirled around to find a tall, dark man, standing near an alleyway. My eyes widened, shocked that he would be talking to me.

Did I know him? Was he at my work? My old school? Did he know me at all?

I stood there, in silence. I didn't like that look in his eye. It takes a lot to give something like me the creeps, but something was definitely off about him.

"Come here," he beckoned, but I refused to move.

"What do you want?" I prodded, carefully studying his reaction.

Obviously sensing my hesitance, he quickly grew irritated. His smirk had faded.

"I said come here!"

Oh, crap.

I tried to make a run for it, but just as I turned around, the man's face was just inches from mine.

But HOW!? He was just over there, and--

Then I smelled it. I smelled it in his breath. That overpoweringly metallic scent that I would recognize anywhere from years of flesh wounds.

Blood!

He covered my mouth and dragged me into the alley in quick succession. For the first time in two years, I was beaten into submission, and no one would hear my scream of pain and terror. He stripped me of my shirt... my black shirt, and drew his face to my neck.

I was bitten...

After that night... I was never the same.

I went through the changes and excruciating pain alone, as I always have been.

I remember being limp in a pool of crimson blood. I could feel the light in my eyes begin to fade as my life flashed before my eyes, and the world faded to black.

Beautiful black.

The color in which all began, and all shall end.

I am dead now, and a monster has taken it's place.

Like nothing happened.

All those thoughts of change and betterment... shattered.

Now nothing will ever change for me.

I remain frozen in time as a soulless immortal, remaining 17 years old forevermore.

A vampire.

Even now, as I gaze upward toward the empty skies with eyes of electrifying blue, in stunning contrast to the darkness above... I wonder if this is where I've always belonged? Maybe...

...this is why night is my favorite color?

After the First Bite...

My humanity digressed into something monstrous.

In the back of my mind, I'm disgusted with myself. I'm horrified at the intensity of my newfound instincts. I was never one to be afraid of blood. I still remember when I used to cut myself all the time.

But this isn't my blood.

This is... human blood.

The once repulsive aroma now calls to me in sweet harmony.

My body craves it.... yearns for it.

It's like an addiction.

Poor woman.

She was an editor, I think, and a darn good one too.
Those pesky little paper cuts.

I stalked her until she was about to hail a taxi.

I jumped her, then, dragging her into those relentless shadows, hiding everything that was about to transpire in plain sight.

...Did you know that the fresher the blood, the better it tastes?

The smoother it runs down your throat?

The darker it bleeds?

Almost black.

Oh, how she screamed. How she struggled!

I wish she hadn't.

The blood rushed faster. I could smell it. Her fear and adrenaline rushing through her veins. The blood is irresistible... I can't stop. I.. can't...

"I'm sorry..." I said hoarsely. Not that it mattered. She wouldn't hear me past her own cries. I allowed my fangs to protrude as they sank into her throat.

Oh, God! I lost it. I lost control again. Just from the sight of the almost-black blood gushing from the bite wound, dripping over the warmth of her human flesh. Drip...Drip...

I could no longer see the pained shock in her tear-filled gaze. Nothing could tear me away from the blood. I had starved myself for days on end. I can't take it anymore...

I drank from her with the greatest pleasure I could have ever felt. For that moment, it overrided the terrible guilt I had for scarring yet another victim. For ruining them the way I was ruined. I wanted more... more...

The woman went limp in my arms as the pool of vital fluids puddled around her, slowly turning into a bright crimson. It was smeared all over her like red paint on a broken canvas.

Only it was more like blood on a broken carcass.

I came down from my high, only to find the woman wouldn't even live to turn. Suddenly frozen in place, I held my breath as I checked for a pulse.

Dead.

It... was the least I could do for her. Dying is a better fate than... this.

I'm a monster.

A monster.

I killed her.

Murderer.

Monster.

"No..."

Monster.

Monster.

Monster.

"STOP!"

My head was reeling as I gripped my skull with both hands, digging into the scalp until I, too, was bleeding.

My blood was cold. Lifeless.

Black.

My heart stopped beating long ago.

I began to cry as the chorus of mocking voices subsided.

I'm going insane.

I'm slowly being consumed by my own madness, with nothing to hold on to.

Until I, too, become a monster.

I stood up, staggering and drenched in...

I can't even say it, anymore.

I can't even think it.

I'm going numb...

I can't... I....

. . .

I blacked out.

~

I awoke groggily, feeling as if my head was stuffed with cotton and it was grating against my skull. My eyes felt puffy, as if I was crying for hours. Ugh... what happened t--

WHAM!

It hit me like a ton of bricks.

I passed out! It'll be daybreak soon! I'll burn to death! I have to get out here! I have to get off... the..... bed?

I was in a bed. I jolted upright, feeling my head instantly ache as I regretted the action. I held my head, as if to stop the world from spinning so violently. I gasped at the sudden nausea in the pit of my stomach.

When everything subsided, I blinked as I gazed about the room again.

It wasn't mine.

All of it wasn't mine. In fact, by the looks of it, it was a minimally furnished guest room, lit only by a low-watt light bulb from a lamp sitting atop an oak wood nightstand in a corner of the room opposite from me. It stood next to a one-door closet, and next to me was a vanity. Save for rubbing alcohol and a first-aid kit, there were no personal items. Only one thing stood out to me in the room.

The walls were grey, and the furnishings were solid black.

Even the sheets.

I began to inspect myself and in what condition I was in.
Whoever brought me here has seen fit to dress my wounds-- if you could call nail scratches wounds. Wait, where did I...?

Oh, yeah. The woman.

I grimaced at the thought, letting my inspection continue without any further delay.

I wore a set of men's pajamas, which, again, were not my own. Someone had to have dressed me.

Maybe because the clothes were bloodstained.

My eyes darkened.

They shouldn't have brought me here.

I should've been left there to die in my own misery.
All monsters should die that way.

I looked around with a blank and sullen gaze when my bizarre blues fell upon a shine of silver on the little dresser. My knife.

I slowly stumbled toward it, still weak from the night before. I... can't take it anymore.

I shakily picked up the knife. I was ready. I wanted this. To end my existence so that others may be spared. This is the only way I know to kill the monster before it spurs to life again.

My heart would be pounding in my chest if I had one, but the silence made my intentions all the more clear. I brought the blade to my chest.

"So this... is what death sounds like..."

"Oh my Go-- WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?"

I froze, eyes wide as I whipped around to face that voice which shrieked in terror.

She was... beautiful. Her long hair fell behind her with a dark, glossy shine. It was the most gorgeous black of anything he had ever seen. A most perfect hue than even he could have hoped to witness. Striking that darkest perfection were strands of purple... like a raven's feathers. If I ever thought there was never a color that would rival with black, I know now that I was so gravely mistaken. Upon the features of her oh, so pale skin remain two shocking orbs of emerald, fully revealed in disbelief while framed in dark eyeliner, which was drawn precariously in thick lines. Upon her hands were onyx lace gloves and charcoal fingernails.

To carry along her ebony theme, such was the color of her shirt which hugged her waistline so slimy, ending over her black miniskirt, which covered her purposely ripped leggings, revealing bare skin like scratch marks of moonlight. Looking farther down I couldn't help but note...

Her pair of black Converse. A pair identical to his own.
He dropped the knife then and there.

It was like looking into an effeminate mirror...!

"What in the hell did you think you were doing?" Her voice was hushed, as if afraid to scare me to death.

Pfft... as if I'm not already dead.

I quickly regained my composure.

"Why don't you quit nosing into other people's business?"

"Wha-! Way to talk to the person who helped you out of the streets!"

"Well, don't I feel like the dog who was left astray?

Besides, I didn't need to be rescued." I let the ice creep into my voice. Deep down... deep down I knew I had to keep away from her. Even if I didn't want to.

She looked at me, as if I was some sort of Rubix cube with an impossible pattern that needed rearranging. I suddenly felt naked in her nearly scrutinizing gaze. She seemed to take in my condition, my voice... everything. It's almost as if she knew how broken I really was.

Then she sighed, relieving me from her stare as her eyes cast downward.

"...That bad, huh?"

"Huh? Wh-what are you going on about?"

"Your life." She said it dead seriously, too.

We were both silent, for a long time. I searched her eyes for anything that could betray her true thoughts or emotions, but all I found was understanding and knowing in her gaze, as if she knew my pain. She walked up to me and took my lifeless palm into her warm one.

"C'mon... I'll make dinner."

"Don't you mean breakfast?"

She turned to me with an inquiring look.

"If you usually have breakfast at 8:00 pm, then I guess you can call it that."

A Few Days Later

I found myself mesmerized by the human girl. Her appearance might have been bad enough to deal with if her voice wasn't so hypnotic. The way she moves when she walks is entrancing, and it baffles me still how perfect she is. She is a masterpiece among the corruption of man.! I have even gone so far as to take her name to memory.

Raven.

I remember when I first tasted those words as they rolled fluidly and pleasurably on my tongue. I never heard the name sound so melodic before now. All of a sudden she appeared in my existence, and she turned everything in it into a far more bearable hue of darkness.

She reminds me of night, whereas before there was naught but emptiness and pain. Now there was a luminosity in the my most favored of colors where there was once ferocity. I only love it more because of her.

Could it be love? Could I still even feel love? Was it possible? We just clicked instantly. I'm more of the antisocial type, in case you haven't noticed, but I felt something the instant we had our first conversation. The instant our eyes met.

And it's not just some random connection, either. We have so much in common.

So much, that is, except for one thing.

I'm a vampire.

A rogue vampire.

I lack self control. I can only last a few days at a time without blood before my instincts take over, and the hunger sets in. They are so lucky, humans are.
She is lucky.

But she won't be if I stay here much longer. I'm growing sick. She insisted that I stayed in her home after my little epileptic fit... What? That was the only excuse I could find. What do you want from me? Anyway, I couldn't bring myself to leave her hospitality despite the danger it posed, and so she began to notice things.

The first thing she realized was that I didn't eat or drink. At first, I tried to bear it and pretend I enjoyed her cooking, but after the first two meals or so, it became apparent that I wouldn't be able to handle anymore human food and beverage, and so I continually refused whatever she offered. You would think it would be easy to just eat it and pretend it wasn't horrible, but when your taste buds are rearranged specifically for enjoying human blood, it becomes extremely difficult to endure anything else. Other food quickly turns to ash in my mouth. Not in appearance, maybe, but in texture and taste. Now, pretend to enjoy it for lunch. It's disgusting.

Then she began to notice my sleep patterns. My sleeping arrangements are parallel to hers. Midnight for her feels like mid-day for me, and vice versa. She thinks I've done nothing but sleep for the past three days, and even when I'm not asleep, I keep all forms of sunlight away from me as much as possible. She tried to bring me outside to go to the store once. Needless to point out she was more than perplexed regarding my behavior. Now let me think for a minute: do I want to stay here alone, or burn to death? Hmm... tough choice. Not.

She worries for me as days pass. As it turns out, she has been taking my temperature while I sleep, and it was so low that she even considered buying a new thermometer, thinking it was broken. When I saw it in her grocery bags, I made it a point to hide it as well as I could.

Then it dawned on her that I was a lot paler than what she deemed safe, and I always felt freezing cold. She keeps the house at some 85 degrees in here to warm me up, but it's only suffocating the both of us. I only just persuaded her to lower it down tonight when I woke up, but it took a lot to get it through to her that I would be more comfortable that way.

The unwanted sun, warm temperature, lack of sleep and blood deprivation led to a diminishing in my own health. She considered taking me to a doctor, but I made it very clear to her that I would not be seeing one any time soon.

Still, the hunger is beginning to crawl up on me again, and whereas I normally resist the urge to drink until the last second, I found a good reason not to let it get that far.

What if she's around when I lose my sense of control? She'll die by my hand.

Or worse.

I had to feed before it gets that far, for her sake. I would sooner die before allowing her to have such a fate.
Again, I am reminded of the separation between us. I am a monster, and I can no longer have another at my side. Like I ever had anyone to begin with. Yes, my life was barely tolerable before, but I'm used to it now. I can go back to it while I still have the memory fresh in my mind. I can leave now before I forget the real pain the world meant for me to feel. The cold harshness of reality, I need to remember so that I am not hurt again.

I left out the door that night. Sneaking out would make her worry, and she would likely go out looking for me. I told her I was going on a stroll to help me feel better. At first, she advised well against it, but then I told her I would be walking by the hospital before it closes to see if they could offer me something for my illness, to which she hesitantly allowed me to leave. It took everything I had to lie to her like that. It was the only reason I could think of to cause her to let me out without too much worry, and it took every power of persuasion in my arsenal to ensure that I would be left to walk alone. I even walked in that general direction in case she was watching me.

Well, the hospital bit wasn't all a lie. I did happen to visit while it was closed. I don't know how I managed to forget that this place accepted donations from the blood bank.

Now I really owe that woman an apology.

There was a fresh shipment this morning. I can smell the heaps of blood bags, even outside the door. I could feel my fangs prodding my lower lip. I could feel that lingering thirst growing into something strong and compelling as I snuck through the door.

I generally avoided detection, though I don't remember how. All I could focus on was the smell of blood haunting my senses, ghosting my tongue as my mouth hung slightly open in thirst. I welcomed the aroma. For once, I opened myself to it.

So thirsty...

I could smell it everywhere. It's so hard to pinpoint an exact location when the whole place simply reeks of it.

Then, suddenly, I found it. It was some sort of dark storage room, but my enhanced night vision proved the otherwise hazardous impairment of vision fruitless. I could smell it in every inch of the atmosphere. It was as if I was in the center of highly concentrated euphoria. The hunger swelled within me until it once again consumed me, only this time, for the first time, I let it.

I scrounged around for the first bag I could find and sank my teeth into it like a starved animal. My senses overflowed with the richness of the vitals as a drop smoothly slid down from the corner of my lip and down my neck. The dark crimson was cold, and so the metallic scent of iron in the bloodstream became far more prevalent, and although I realized I far more preferred fresh blood, I was not in a position to complain.

I finished the bag and moved on to the next in a fever. I was addicted to it. I needed it. The world revolved around it as my world turned red.

It felt as if even my eyes seemed to carry a sinister vermillion tinge inside those striking blues, creating a beautiful contrast. Imagining it alone felt almost as notable as Raven's pair of emerald ones...

Then the thought of her blood crept into my mind. If her blood was as tantalizing as she was flawless....

I groaned, both verbally and inwardly, as I thought of what she would have felt like. What she would taste like. To have her willingly feed him as he held her in his arms...

He never thought of her this way until now, but he didn't want to stop now.

He imagined the blood he drank as fresh, warm and sweet, and that the plastic he felt upon his lips was the warmth of her skin. He could practically smell her in the room with him, her heart beating rapidly with...

Fear?

"ALEXANDER!?"

...!?

Remember what I said about coming here alone?

I didn't.

She stood there in horror at what I truly was. The fantasy quickly disappeared as my hunger became instantly and equally replaced with fear. She knew now. She knew him for what she was. A vampire.

His fangs, which were presently in no way retracted, were soaked and dripping with blood. My lips, I knew, were stained crimson, and further paled my features. I must have looked savage in her eyes. I imagined that she would scream and run in terror, or try to stake me and go Van Hellsing on me like in the old horror films. My eyes teared with regret and sorrow, fully beginning to realize how monstrous I had truly been, in those moments preluding her entrance. I didn't just drink the blood this time. I enjoyed it! I imagined drinking from her! I-- I just...

I couldn't even think anymore. I began to cry like a child. I would lose her. I would lose her like I lost everyone else. But this time it was my fault. I scared her away...!

I couldn't even register anything until I felt a pair of arms wrapping tightly around me. I couldn't help but lean into them, letting the tears and blood intermingle before staining the fabric that covered her torso. I sobbed, letting all the pain flow out in the form of tears, until I was left with red, salty eyes that drained themselves dry, leaving me to my silent convulsing while my body seemed to continue to weep on its own accord.

When she pulled away from me, I saw her eyes were filled with sadness, almost understanding the pain I felt, as if she could. She looked on me not in anger or fear for herself, but rather fear for my own fate. Fear for my welfare and emotional discord. She looked at me soul-deep, and I was, again, entranced by her gaze.

"It's alright... everything will be okay."

She stood up, holding her hand out to me.

"Let's go home."

I took her hand as she helped me to my feet.

I feel it needless to announce that I had some explaining to do after that. My little condition actually explained a lot, like how I was nocturnal, and the way I refused to eat. She actually complained that she threw away a perfectly good thermometer because of me.

Of all the things she could go on about and she chooses the bloody thermometer!

However, she was surprisingly okay after the ordeal. It was a little hard to grasp at first, but she was as open to it as she could be. She ended up letting me stay here instead of retiring to my apartment. It's not like I had anything there waiting for me.

In the end, what she was most curious about was what it felt like to be bitten. I assumed painful, but then again I did jump my victims and force them into it, so it could go either way.

All I could think about when I was bitten was along the lines of 'Holy hell, I'm going to die!'

Still, I refuse drink from her.

...okay, well, she never asked, but I figure if I repeat this ridiculous mantra long enough I can keep my nonexistent resolve when she does.

Truth is, I'd always wondered what it would be like to taste her blood. To have someone willingly gi---

No! You don't want to, Alexander. You can't risk it.
...great, now I'm talking to myself. Where is my sanity!?

Oh yeah, that's right. It walked out the front door when I found out she existed.

Yep, I've fallen pretty hard.

Am I usually this sarcastic?

Oh, well.

"Argh! Crap!"

I was snapped out of my reverie when I heard a clatter of metal hit the tile floor. I jumped off the couch with inhuman speed into the kitchen to ask if she was okay, but my nose caught wind of it before my eyes could catch it themselves.

Blood.

The knife lay on the floor where it fell, covered in slight drops of scarlet that continued to drip from her shallow wound. She cut her hand while chopping vegetables for the soup she was making for herself for dinner.

Now, how convenient was it that I was just on the subject of what not to do when I realized that not only was she bleeding, but I hadn't fed in little less than a week? Fan-freaking-tastic.

Trying to keep the hunger at bay, I covered my nose away from the-- oh, God, she smells..... Ah, hell no!

I tore several sheets of paper towels from the roll and shoved them in her direction, shakily. She looked at me with confusion at my reaction at first, but then it hit her.

It was as if I saw her take a slap to the face.

I power-walked to the guest room and closed the door with a slam.

I sat on the bed, trying to calm myself, but just as I was beginning to think I had it under control, I could smell it outside the door just as she was coming in.

"Don't--!"

She sat down next to me on the mattress. I could see it in her face. It was too late to protest.

"Alex...?" she began carefully.

Of course, I remained silent, not even daring to trust my voice.

So she continued.

"When was the last time you... uh...?"

"Fed." Dead silence followed on her part, save for a quick twist of her head, strands of onyx following the motion fluidly, like a curtain in a flourish. I cast my eyes downward, trying not to look at her.

"Four... five days, maybe?"

"C-can you go that long?"

"Not usually." Her mouth opened in a shocked little "o."

"Well...! Why didn't you say something!?"

"Didn't think about it at the time."

"Didn't think? You're a vampire! Don't vampires think about blood all the time? If you weren't thinking about that, then what were you thinking about?"

Again, silence. What was I supposed to tell her? That I've been ogling her beauty ever since we first met?
Come on. Welcome to the 21st.

Then, suddenly, I found a wrist just a hair's breadth from my face.

My first reaction was to back away, violently.

My second was to yell like the apocalypse ensued.

"What are you trying to do!? Get yourself killed? Do you even realize what you are getting yourself into?"

I knew I was screaming at her, but I didn't care. The last person I fed from died!

"I would never let me forgive myself if something happened to you!"

I wanted her to leave. To hate me and get it over with. At least then maybe I could stay away from her so I couldn't hurt her anymore.

But she stood in front of me and looked me in the eye.

"Will you stop worrying about me already?"

She stepped closer.

"You need to drink. Besides, I know you won't hurt me."

She showed her cut hand to my face.

"You said it yourself. You wouldn't forgive yourself if you let anything happen."

She smiled a little.

"So don't."

I was left breathless, both by her statement and the offering. The blood was just beginning to clot, but it was still flowing, I could feel her pulse in the air surrounding us. Her blood sang in a second voice that only she could possess. I unconsciously leaned my face forward, gently lifting her hand, but paused haltingly as my lips were just about to brush against her wound.

"It's okay..."
. . .

Alright.

I lapped at the wound before putting my mouth against it, careful not to bite her. She gasped at the sensation, and her heart beat faster as I sucked the blood from her palm.

I was going delirious from the sensation. The blood was fresh, with only the slightest adrenaline. But it was her. A taste defined only as Raven. I inhaled deeply at her scent, savoring her touch, her taste... her everything. I felt the hunger rise in satisfaction, but it still wasn't enough. I felt like I was drinking through a coffee straw. I needed an artery.

She was breathing slightly heavier after I pulled myself away from her.

"More..." I voice was hoarse, and it suddenly sounded as if I really didn't drink anything in days.

As if knowing where this was headed, she exposed the most obvious spot.

The neck.

Too deprived to argue with the cheesy Hollywood scene slowly unfolding here, I brought myself up to her jugular before whispering something into her ear.

"I'm sorry... about this."

I bit into her skin as the blood gushed into my mouth.

I could hardly stifle a moan. She tasted so godly.... I don't think I could ever remember a time when blood tasted so good...

I made sure not to hit any major arteries when I bit her, but that didn't stop the blood flow from flooding my senses any less. Suddenly I felt her press closer to me as her arms wrapped around my upper back and the back of my neck.

I held her, returning that embrace as I fed from her. Everything about her was dizzying me. For once, I wasn't desperate or savage about it, but I was enjoying the comfort she offered to me.

It felt right.

When I was done, I withdrew and retracted my fangs.

I found the two craters in her otherwise perfect skin, which I licked out of instinct. Before I could question why I had done it, I found that the wound had already healed.

Well I'll be...

She pulled away from me with exhausted eyes. The loss of blood was tiresome, but it seems she didn't lose too much. I laid her down on the bed gently, realizing now that maybe being a vampire wasn't entirely monstrous after all. Not while I still had an ounce of humanity left.

Before she dozed off, I realized I hadn't given her an answer yet.

"You," I said softly.

"Hmm...?" Her eyes were beginning to flutter shut as she gazed up at me with a hazy pair of emeralds, as if in question.

"You asked me what I had been thinking about all this time. I was thinking about you."

She smiled as she descended into a blissful sleep.

Tonight, I was left surrounded by darkness.

I smiled as I watched her sleep.

~Written by KaidaMizuki~

He wakes up haunted
With voices in his head
Nobody knows it but today
He won't go unnoticed
He can't forget
Can't forgive
For what they said
He's never been
So hurt but
Today the screaming
Is over

Blame the family
Blame the bully
Blame it on me
Maybe he needed to be wanted
Blame the family
Blame the bully
Blame it on me
Maybe he needed to be wanted

Theme Song ~ Three Days Grace ~ Bully

Before his boxing.

Thanks to Darkforestwa

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Snowfire

Mysterious - Alluring - Compassionate