Angels and Monsters

Chapter One

New story...I'm just teeming with ideas. LOL. Anyhow, I'm just going with this story off the cuff to see where it goes in the first chapter. If it's good, I'll continue it. If not, we'll have to see. I'm delving back into the realm of vampires. But, Bella's the vamp this time. Without further ado...

Angels and Monsters

Chapter One

I'm bored. I'm tired of my existence. I've been stuck in this perfect body for nearly fifty years. Unable to remember anything of my past, I drift from city to city, hunting the measly, smelly humans. The burn in my throat tells me that I'm thirsty. I could crack at any moment, but I need to maintain my composure.

With an unnecessary sigh, I head into a local bar in Chicago. I can usually find a drunk or high bastard who falls for my innocent look. I wandered toward the bathroom of the bar to pop in some contact lenses to mask my bright red eyes. Nothing scares my prey like seeing blood red orbs staring at you. I chose a bright blue. With the red irises, my eyes appear to be violet and ethereal. I personally can't stand the damn contact lenses. They hinder my vision but I need to look 'pretty' for my next meal.

Flipping my hair over my shoulders, I sashay to the bar and slid a twenty to the bartender. "Can I get a beer?" I purred.

"I'll get you anything you want, beautiful," the bartender smiled. "How about me?" His brown eyes were dilated and his heart was stammering. Unfortunately, I heard a slight murmur. He was probably going to die of a heart attack in a few months.

"Tempting, baby," I winked. "Just a beer for now."

His shoulders dropped and he fetched me a beer. "I'm Eric if you need anything, beautiful," he said dejectedly.

"Thanks, Eric," I replied. I caught a slight glint on his left hand. Married and he's flirting with a vampire. I bet his wife is an old hag that can't get him hard. Turning on my stool, I crossed my legs and surveyed the bar. It was early yet. The bar was barely filled. The patrons that were there were mainly leftovers from happy hour. Opening my mind, I listened to their conversations, mental and otherwise.

Yeah, I can read minds. Don't ask me to explain that shit.

However, the nice thing is that I can turn it on and off. That is definitely helpful when I'm searching for my prey. I love drinking human blood, but honestly, I don't want to be a complete monster. I tend to focus my attention on the men and women who are the dregs of society. The have-nots. The fucktards who diddle little boys and rape their girlfriends.

I hate my job. My boss is a fucking moron. I can so do a better job...what an ass on that girl!

Beer. Beer. Beer. Cat. Beer.

I need to get fucking laid. I wonder if that hottie at the bar would ride me like a thorough-bred stallion. Her pussy must be hot and wet.

"Not so much, sailor. Wet? Yes. Hot, not really," I answered to his mental musings. "I'm a cold, frigid bitch. And you have a comb-over." Mr. Bad Hair looked at me longingly, pleading me with his gray eyes. With a slow shake of my head, I dismissed his mental plea for me to fuck him. He heaved a sigh and turned back to his companions, searching for a next object of his affection.

I spend a few hours sitting on my stool. The bar fills up to capacity and soon the burn in my throat is unbearable. The mental voices are giving me a fucking headache. I dropped my mental block and headed outside to clear my head. This bar is turning into a fruitless stop. I pull out a pack of cigarettes and light one up, blending in with the rest of the folks outside of the bar.