Have you ever thought that vampires existed? When you think of vampires, do garlic and stakes come to mind? Well, vampires do exist, but we are not what you think. Vampires aren't just blood-craving monsters who hunt humans; we are peaceful. We do have sharp fangs, that much is true, but we aren't allergic to garlic; in fact, some of us love it, myself included. We don't burst into flame, or melt in the sunlight, and we definitely do not sparkle in the sun either.
As vampires, we live for thousands, and sometimes even hundreds of thousands of years (if a pesky, self-righteous human doesn't drive a stake into our heart first...). I am not young by vampire terms. New and young vampires, are "Newlings". Until a vampire is at least one hundred years old, they can't turn a human into a vampire, and are considered a Newling. But I'm what we call a "Maturling". Maturlings are at least a century old. In vampire years, I'm one hundred, on the dot. Though in human years, I'm about twenty-one. There is a third category of vampires called "Purelings". Purelings are vampires who have always been - well, vampires, - and have never had a single human in their family tree. Purelings, unlike all other vampires, can turn a human at any age. (Imagine being turned into a vampire by a toddler... yikes). Like with all cultures, there are things that are forbidden. For vampires, we are not allowed, by any means, to turn a human out of spite, or if they refuse to be one of us, but when feelings are surface, they can change things forever...
Let me tell you what it was to be made vampire. It wasn't birth. Birth implies pushing, tearing forth into the light, screaming. Becoming immortal was to be pulled, to be tugged irrevocably into darkness, and it was silent.
I should have fought, any person should fight, but my mind had been filled with a hazy calm which forbade any battle. Struggling had been the last thing on my mind, even when my bus arrived and my assailant waved it on, dismissing my last hope of escape.
Yet my lack of rebellion was far from the most unsettling part of the stranger's control over me. The truth was that the man could've asked anything of me and I would've complied, but he didn't need to vocalise his request. I knew instinctively what he wanted. I sighed and surrendered myself as he held me against his front in a lover's embrace, tipping my head and willingly giving him access to my throat.
"One day you'll understand," he whispered, his tone subdued. I've often wondered since if he was really talking to me. Perhaps he'd been talking to himself, persuading himself that one day I'd know and accept his reasons for what he'd planned for me.
I wouldn't. I couldn't. Because when my fangs came in, my world altered irrevocably. It became somewhere dark, somewhere filled with murder and blood, where magic was sinister and where even my closest ally seemed more like an enemy... Even if he did make my heart skip a beat.
VAMPIRE/PARANORMAL/URBAN FANTASY