The flashing neon lights were blinding, pulsing with an unrelenting brutality that made him head swim uncomfortably. There were what felt like a thousand sweaty bodies pressed against his creating a never ending wave of movement. It felt like he was surrounded by an hot, overwhelming mass that looked to push itself into every crevice of free space, never stopping, never cooling, unrelenting.
He walked with his head down, his arms extended to his sides in a futile attempt to keep the ever moving bodies away from his. It didn't work. It only offered even more access to the roaming, overheated hands grabbing at his arms, his waist, hips, chest, hair, his neck. It was overwhelming in the worst of ways, it was too much and yet not enough all at once. He drew his arms in once again, cradling them tightly against his chest, curling in on himself almost unconsciously, protecting, hiding.
Suddenly, from within the mass of bodies - roaming, groping, greedy - a hand closed around the back of his neck and tugged. It was warm, callous, rough, familiar. Enough so that it immediately put him at ease. The hand tugged again, turning him around to face its owner and there, illuminated by the strobe lights pulsing at the rhythm of some indistinguishable pop remix, he saw his face.
Somewhere during the pulse between green and blue his ever present stony expression morphed into a snarl. His teeth were bared and he could swear his eyes were as purple as the lights around them. All he could focus on, however, were the pearly white, sharp fangs the sprouted almost magically and that was enough to make him scream.
YOU ARE READING
Otium
VampireLiving in Viribus, what was once the great nation of North America, is harder than it probably should be for Xyan Torrealba. Plagued with what seems to be an inescapable series of nightmares, he finds himself plunged into a world that makes him doub...
