The Madman of the Woods | ONC 2024 Shortlist | Vampire Romantasy | Supernatural

11 VIV Club

After dealing with the two vampires who were trying to ruin his good time, Lailoken pulled Josie back onto the dance floor, allowing the crowd to absorb them and hide them from further distractions. He tried to resume their earlier dance and allow their desires to bring them closer, but she held back. She wouldn't allow him to seduce her like before. He wasn't worried though. He knew he was on the right track to win her over, besides, he liked a challenge.

He could picture himself having many adventures with her. They would protect his woods, travel, and explore the new world together. And they would visit more dance clubs, that was for sure. She was an excellent partner.

He loved The Red Den with its loud music and the crowd of people. Modern dance wasn't synchronized and stuffy like some he'd encountered throughout the centuries. They all danced together but individually. Everyone had their own style and preference. Some danced with partners some without. Exactly what Lailoken was looking for. And the music, the loud, rhythmic, repetitive symphony, which could not be ignored—he loved it too. It was meant for exerting energy, to jump and lose oneself.

After a couple of dances, Josie told him she needed a bathroom break. He let her go without a protest. She wasn't the first human he'd befriended so he knew all about their needs. Their weak bodies were very demanding.

He wasn't alone for long though. Soon, a vampire joined him. She wore a long, red and black, sleeveless gown with a high collar. Her chin-length gray hair was perfectly split in the middle, which accentuated her pointy face. She danced in front of him, moving seductively and flaunting her exotic beauty, but he didn't fall for it. He knew vampires well enough to know that she wasn't there just to have a good time.

Sure enough, she gripped his shirt with her silver-painted clawlike nails, and said, "What's your name, beautiful?"

"Lailoken," he stated, looking around if Josie had returned yet. He didn't want her to get the wrong idea.

"Interesting name," she said, elongating her vowels. "I'm Bonnie, but everyone calls me Banshee." She laughed in a high-pitched sound that immediately explained the nickname.

Lailoken paused, wondering why her name sounded familiar.

She must have interpreted that as an invitation as she hooked her hand through his belt and pulled him to her so they were face to face. "You've got balls, I'll give you that." Their dancing became more like a waddle from leg to leg as she held him down. "Bringing a hunter into our club and refusing to meet the owner. Who do you think you are?"

A hunter? She couldn't have meant Josie. Lailoken shelved his questions for later. He could force Banshee to release him but felt like he had the upper hand by letting her think she could hold him down. When interacting with other vampires, mind games were a must. "So, we've established I've got balls. Anything else you'd like to know about my anatomy?"

She stammered and blinked a lot at first, then she let out a high-pitched cackle and covered her fangs with her hand. At least, that allowed him to get free of her, but as he tried to walk away, he found a group of vampires surrounding him.

Lailoken spent the majority of his long life avoiding other vampires. He had no patience for their stuffy traditions and hierarchy rules. He avoided large gatherings of any kind, making exceptions only for parties. Dancing was the only form of socializing he liked.

So when the group of vampires gathered around him, each looking with hostility that promised they would not leave him be, he was beyond annoyed. It was his first party since waking up, and he was far from done having fun. If they chose to fight him, then he would have his fun one way or another.

Banshee came up behind him and whispered in his ear, "Don't even think about it. We have your feisty little hunter."

Lailoken held his tongue and allowed her to lead him away from the dance floor, but his rage was simmering inside him. He did not like being cornered or for his friends to be threatened. His fog was itching to come out and deal with the problem, but he held it at bay, waiting for the right opportunity.