Blood Lust

Prologue

The smell of blood was heavy in the air as the old vampire traversed the battlefield. Men and women laid in crooked heaps of broken bodies. "They're all fools," he grumbled, his demonic red eyes slowly moving over each pale (or in some cases, disfigured) face and shook his head.
Three centuries ago, he'd been in the same predicament, dying and writhing in agony as arrows protruded from his chest. The Old One, a vampire several centuries past his prime, had given the young warrior a second chance, took him under his wing, and taught the young man the ways of the vampire. Now, all the young man, three centuries older, could see was the foolishness in each person lying here now. Fighting for a king that would only replace the dead with more young people to fight for stupid causes.
Caught up in his thoughts, the vampire barely heard the lone, pained cry for help. It was a woman's voice. He lifted his gaze and his eyes landed on a short little thing, her armor torn to shreds by cannonballs that had blown apart. The open breastplate revealed a gaping wound that should've cause her to die immediately but somehow, she managed to hold on. Her caramel brown eyes met his red irises and she let out another shaky moan. "H-Help... Me..." She choked out weakly. The vampire knelt beside her and lifted her up gently as they studied each other. Beneath the blood and grime, he could tell this girl was beautiful, even in the face of death. He wouldn't doubt that if her skin wasn't so torn, it would've been the creamiest peach and soft as the clouds above.
"What is your name?" He asked her and her heavy eyes widened slightly. "It... It's L-Levy," she said softly as she stared in to his eyes. They were the most beautiful red, like the roses back home. The roses she'd never see again, Levy realized sadly as her vision was very slowly beginning to tunnel. The man before her was beautiful in the oddest ways. His hair was as black as the ink in the books she loved to read, spiky, too. He had several piercings in his face, some acting as eyebrows. He wore black attire, also, something that seemed to fit him perfectly. From what she could feel, he was wonderfully crafted, as if he spent many hours of his day building his strength. Yes, all in all, he was a beautiful man, a fitting image to be her last.
The vampire didn't know anything about this girl, apart from her name, but the life leaving her eyes struck something inside him. He'd never sired before and wasn't quite sure how to do it, but this beautiful creature dying in his arms did not need to be wasted. He leaned down and whispered into her ear, "Rest, young one. You'll be safe, soon." A strange noise left the girl's throat before blood rolled down her chin. He brushed his nose over her neck, searching for the strongest pulse of her barely beating heart.
Levy's body stiffened ever so slightly when she'd seen his canines when the man spoke. His canines were longer than normal and seemed to be glazed with something other than saliva. A vampire, she realized as she felt his nose grazing her neck, realizing the meaning behind his words and beauty. She heard the vampire take in a deep breath at the point just at the curve where her neck began to meet her shoulder.
The vampire nearly moaned when he caught the scent of pure blood pulsing slightly under her skin. So she was a virgin. The vampiric process would go smoother, then. He swiped his tongue over the girls flesh and earned a displeased gurgling sound from the girl before the noise faded. He needed to hurry. The vampire sank his fangs into her neck, making the girl in his arms choke out a cry of pain before falling limp in his arms. After several moments, he pulled back, closing the wound with his tongue and stood, holding the temporarily dead girl in his arms as he turned to journey home. With her injuries it would take at least a week for the venom to heal her before she woke up. A week for him to figure out how he would train his first underling.