Bloodlust

Chapter One

Humans have always possessed an inane desire for immortality. Where does it come from, you may wonder, this obsession with life after death, or, even, the promise of lives after lives? I cannot tell you. What I will admit is the despondency of those who have gained an immortal life. I have seen it: the horror as friends wither to dust, as new acquaintances fade to the barest memory in the mind.

Immortality is reserved for a reason. Immortality is not for the faint-hearted.

Nor is it a gift.

What I will also admit is that immortality can be great. You can't die from alcohol poisoning, drugs, or ducks. You live forever, with weaknesses few and far between.

That is definitely why I'm currently in a crowded club, drinking what I believe to be my ninth shot of straight vodka for the night. "Chug, chug, chug!" people chant as the liquid sears my throat. Whooping, I grab a random passersby and drag him to the dance floor, instantly reveling in the loud music and thump of the bass.

Leaning forward, I yell into his ear, "Wanna get out of here, handsome?"

He grins and grabs my hand, weaving me through the dozens of sweaty bodies that crowd the floor. As we pass by a waiter, carrying an order of drinks, I swipe one off of the platter and down it in two sips.

"You got some tolerance," the guy slurs as we stumble out of the club.

"I've had practice," I say vaguely, before leading him into a dark alleyway.

The instant our lips connect, I feel hungry. Painfully hungry. His hands wander down to my waist and I run my fingers through his hair. As his lips continue to move against mine, I murmur, "I'm really sorry about this."

He moves back and says, "Wh--" before my freshly revealed fangs dive into his neck. His screams are silenced as my teeth cut through his throat, ripping through flesh and clamping upon bone. I let out a moan as the iron tang of blood rushes through my taste buds, alighting them with flavor. I'll feel painfully drunk tomorrow, due to the amount of alcohol I've drunk combined with the alcohol in the man's blood, but I can stand it.

After all, I'm immortal.

Once my hunger is satisfied, I drop the man's lifeless body to the ground. Wiping the blood from my mouth, I saunter out of the alleyway and down the Rue de Islya, New Orleans' most popular bar and club street. Weaving through the masses of people, I garner lustful looks from men and disgusted glances from women.

My hearing picks up on their degrading slurs: "prostitute," "whore," and "slut" are the most popular. It doesn't affect me as it once did, though. Time has wearied the harsh sting of the perceived slights. Besides, they've been used since the 1800s. I mean, get some new insults, at this point.

My apartment lies on the rich side of the city, in apartment buildings that only a few can afford. My lifetimes' worth of wealth has enamored me to luxury: and I deserve it, after putting up with the affairs of humans for so long. Entering the building, I send a small smile to the doorman, and then, to the man manning the front desk. "Good evening, mademoiselle," he says cheerfully, though it's nearing one a.m.

"Good evening, monsieur," I say before stepping into the elevator. Thankfully, my vampirism has saved me once again from immediate incapacitation from alcohol. Currently, I feel nothing; in the morning, I'll have a wicked hangover. But no matter.

The elevator lets me out at the top level and I stride into my penthouse apartment. Immediately heading towards the decanter of bourbon, I pour myself a glass before saying, "You can come out now, boys."

Like magic, two figures melt from the shadows. I smile before turning around, The first boy is tall, with dark hair. His brown eyes and strong nose recall the Renaissance; maybe even Imperial Russia, if I remember correctly. The second seems much younger, somehow forcing me to remember both Imperial France and modern day America. His blonde hair shines like a beacon in my dark home, and his eyes, alarmingly similar to his friend's, gleam.

"How'd you know we were there?" the second boy questions. There's no note of incredulity to his voice, as there has been for the last twenty sets of people that have been sent to trail me.

I scoff. "I saw you two months ago. Figured I would play the Council's game for a little while. Buy myself some peace and quiet before they caught on."

"That's impossible," he argues. "The Council would've known. They always know."

"I, for one, am not surprised," the first boy chirps. "My handsomeness can be seen from miles away. I'm sorry that this ass made you stay away for so long, I'd loved to have met you sooner." He sticks out his hand, a simultaneously charming and misleading smirk on his face. "Will," he says. "Will Amstraat. At your service, Miss Telemun."

I glance at his hand in distaste before finishing off my glass of bourbon. "It's Nadya," I reply shortly. Directing my attention to the second boy, I add, "You?"

"Niklaus Ministers. You can call me Nik. Or Klaus. But please, try for Nik."

"For some reason," Will drawls, "he hates being associated with that delightfully entertaining mortal show. Doesn't like the portrayal of vampires, apparently. Or the psychopathic tendencies of his namesake."

"He's named after me," Niklaus complains. "But that's besides the point. By order of the Blood Council, you, Nadya Telemun, must appear before the Council tomorrow afternoon. Forcibly or by choice. It's up to you, Miss Telemun."

I snort this time. "The Council has asked me to appear at least ten times now and have yet to actually get me to that place. Why do you think you can get me there?" The boys share a glance and I sigh. "Listen, if you try to kidnap me, I will not hesitate to rip out your throats. I did far worse to Aleski and Micah."

"Oh. I thought they went on vacation," Will says airly. "I hear Buenos Aires is nice this time of year."

I grin at that. It's not often that my supposed kidnappers have a sense of humor. "Really? I thought London was the best. All those tourists." I smack my lips noisily and Will grins back.

"So. Will you come, Miss Telemun? Or do we have to take you there?" Will smiles, but there's a clear threat in his voice.

I set my glass down, the glass clinking against the fine marble. "Monsieurs, I am older than both of you. It's been years since I feared another vampire."

"You've yet to face us, Miss Telemun," Niklaus states.

Just then, I feel a sting in my back. Looking towards it in surprise, I say, "Oh. A tranquilizer. Infused with...what?"

I glance at them, already feeling the effects of the drug. "Drugged blood. Nice addition, don't you think?" Niklaus says.

"Impressive," I say dryly. "Put me in a nice cell, would you?" 

My collapse is not one I wish to speak of. 

i really hope y'all like this, it's the first time i've written anything like this... 

xx, k