To Love A Vampire

To Love A Vampire

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, Oct 1, 2016
First chapter originally written for the #loveshot contest: Those Blue Eyes. Vampires --vile, dangerous creatures of the dark that replenish and survive on the blood of all things mortal. Creatures that hunt and kill without remorse or mercy. The most lethal of predators hiding beneath the ethereal beauty, grace and perfection. However, a savage beast ponders beneath the surface, having lost all ties with compassion and care. They don't have beating hearts in their chests, they aren't careful when handling a fragile thing like a living being. Then why did HE feel something towards the delicate and unearthly gorgeous human? Why did he feel flutters in his stomach whenever she smiled? Why did the raging, uncaring beast inside him went insane with blood-lust at the thought of her being harmed and harassed? Why was it that whenever he saw her eyes glossy, he had the urge to burn the earth to ashes, to torture the cause of her sorrows to death, to find a way to ease away her pain in whichever way it was possible? Yet, at the same moment, he couldn't stand being in the same room as her. He barely controlled the longing to suck her dry. He would find himself glaring at her long, delicate throat, the translucent skin showing him the veins and arteries in a beautiful web of blue, green and purple. He would listen to her beating heart which -consciously or unconsciously- brought him comfort that she was breathing when she was out of sight. At the same time, the heinous desire to rip it out of her chest would burn his entire being. It would fascinate him when her heart fluttered, picked up its pace, or slowed into a steady rhythm. It would also force him to imagine... its taste... its scent... the feel of it in his hands... Torn between affections and ardour and the compulsion to slay and slaughter... What is a vampire to do when he can neither love, nor destroy?
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"You...You look just like an angel...A dangerous one but still.....an Angel." She attempted to smile at me. Her breathing was forced and ragged. Her forehead was covered in beads of sweat. Whether she felt any pain or not, I felt a thousand knives pierce my heart. I gently caressed her cheek with the back of my hand. All my life I never had a problem getting whatever I want. I was the last child out of four siblings. My parents spoilt me with everything. In every way. They had no problem allowing me to have whatever my heart desired. I was never met with anything I couldn't have. Until her. Until this beautiful woman who was never going to be mine. I wish I could fight to have her. I wish I was faced with a normal challenge that most men do when they were in love. A normal challenge would occasionally be them trying to prove their love for their woman, or compete for her hand if there was another man after her. I would love to compete but how could I ever compete with something which is not a being of any sort? How was I ever going to compete or battle against something I could never touch or see? How could I beat it if it is the one she has chosen to go with? How could I ever take away the freedom of choice? How could I ever compete with Death?

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