Bitter Revenge

Chapter 2

My stomach growled after sitting for 8 hours straight purely working. Goddess, I need blood. I walked out of my office and made my way to the kitchen, taking my glasses off and rubbing my eyes. "You wear glasses?" I hear a high-pitched but full voice say to me as I enter the kitchen. I look at the chef, oh goddess what's your name? "Huh? Oh, no. These are for the computer screen." I stand there awkwardly, I can't just open the freezer room, open a secret safe that keeps blood bags cold for me, in front of a human... probably human? Well, she hasn't shown any sign of being supernatural so- "Did you need something? A meal maybe?" She gave me a small smile, holding up the knife that was chopping up tomatoes. "Oh! No no, thank you for offering though..." I ran on, trying to remember her name. She just chuckled and continued chopping away. "Scarlet. And okay then, your loss." I smiled, liking her relaxed attitude. I opened the fridge and pulled out a water bottle. I'll return for the blood bags later.

I sighed, slowly thinking back to my life as a whole as I made my way back to my office. Which was a mistake since I get pretty... out of it whenever I look back. I sat on the sofa I kept in my office, sinking back into memories of abuse and trauma. Memories only I know of. I've never told a soul. Not even Cristina, whom I've known for a little under 100 years. Or Grayson, whom I have known for much less but have taken a liking to VERY quickly. Next thing I knew, it was night time. I felt the searing rage from my past start to run through my veins as it forced me onto my feet and had me angrily marching out the back door. My consciousness was thrown to the back of my mind as my anger took the driver's seat. Damn it... I'm going to make bad choices again. I'm seriously a mess.

I huffed and puffed into the cold winter air, my eyes searching for the people walking passed me. The hood of my jacket was raised to cover my face, and my searching eyes. I don't know if other vampires can do this, since I have never met another vampire surprisingly, but I can smell if people are good or bad. It's their scent. Usually, good people have a variety of good smells. Candy, flowers, perfume, etc. But bad people? They usually smell like ashes, oil, rotten corpses if they're that damn evil. A hard scent invaded my senses that visibly made me gag. This person is rotten to the core. I searched for the source of this disgusting scent, and then analyzed the sight in front of my eyes.

A man leaning against a building with a cigarette in his hand. His pants hung low, and his pale skin was scarred with a plethora of tattoos. They were quite beautiful really, too bad the owner seems to be a rotting corpse. I walked over to him, fearless. He watched me approach him, a wicked smile tugged his lips back to reveal grills. "Can I help you little girl? Feeling lonely tonight?" I simply pulled my hood back enough to show my eyes, then forcefully opened his mind with my own. I don't know the actual name of this process but I'm cliché so I just call it mind control. It's a risky process, one I seriously need to practice. "Come with me, silently." I muttered as I pushed the command into his eyes. He nodded silently, and I led him away. I have my own little hideout to perform these... operations.

I sat him down on a chair and tied him up nice and tight. This big ass building used to be a very popular chocolate factory. But apparently, they went bankrupt a while back. So I took the liberty of turning this place into my own little horror factory. I snapped my fingers in front of his face and he snapped out of his daze. Then, realizing he was in some unknown place, tied up, he started to struggle. "What the hell?! Let go of me you little shit! You don't know who you're messing with!" He growled deep in his throat, fangs starting to protrude from his mouth and his bones started to snap. So you're a werewolf. Huh.

I put my foot on the underbelly of the seat and kicked up with all my strength, sending him to his back. From the sound of his pained grunt, he probably just broke a couple bones in his hands. He looked up at me, and in that moment, he realized that I was the alpha here. I was superior. So he whimpered and gulped his pride. "What do you want from me?" His voice shook, and he stopped struggling. "What pack are you from? This is Crimson Pack territory. Or are you a rogue foolish enough to trespass?" He gulped in fear this time, intimidated by my harsh voice. "I-I'm a rogue." I listened for his heart beat to confirm whether that was true or not. The beats stayed the same, truth. "I have half a mind to kill you now." I growled, despite me being a vampire, I'm an ally of the Crimson Pack, a role I take very seriously.

"I'm sorry, okay?! I'm just hungry!" His heartbeat increased, and sweat started to visibly collect on his brow. Lie. "Don't lie to me!" I kicked his shoulder and dug my heel into it, causing him to yelp and growl. "The name Violet! Do you recognize it?!" I screamed, my vision going red. Why did I ask that? Werewolves aren't immortal, he couldn't have killed her. "Violet? I-I don't know a Violet! Please let me go!" He started begging, making my anger spike. At least die with some dignity. His heartbeat stayed the same, he didn't recognize the name. Of course not. I grabbed his thin, gray shirt and hoisted him up. He smiled weakly, assuming I was letting him go. Instead, I sunk my fangs into the crook of his neck, making him yelp in surprise and pain. He growled and groaned as I started draining him of his blood, until he went silent and limp. And there was no more blood for me.

I dumped his body that I'd put in a trash bag into a nearby river. I wiped my mouth and lips that were stained with blood. I felt so full, the sensation of hunger died off. I've always wondered... Do good people taste good? Just curious since I've never tried. Pounding footsteps on grass alerted me as I spun around to witness fire being thrown in my direction. I rolled out of the way and looked to see where that came from. Three people, hidden by cloaks, with the same damn symbol. A crown with crisscrossing swords behind it. Stupid witches from the Royal Coven.