Not All Monsters Get Along

She shuddered beneath me, her skin soft with a sheen of sweat all over. I kissed her throat, her collarbone, her breasts, and her left wrist.

She moaned, a low sound that struck the air and made me smile. Her breathing was shaky and when my teeth sank into her ulnar artery, blood filtered through my teeth and onto my tongue.

I licked the wound, but the blood kept coming, staining her bedsheets. She fisted her hands in the sheets, quickening the blood flow and her demise.

I repeated my slow kisses to her other wrist and punctured the delicate flesh quickly, ripping another groan from her throat.

“Quicker,” she panted, as if we were having intercourse. I smirked. She had let me in thinking we would, but I had different plans with her sweet, human body for the night.

She grasped my hair, and pulled me closer, pressing her lips against my bloodstained ones. I stiffened, disgusted, and pulled away. She couldn't see my disgust, as her eyes were closed as she licked her own blood from her lips.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to savor this meal, instead of tearing her throat out.

I dropped down between her thighs, and she hooked her ankles behind my head. I could hear the blood pulsing in her femoral artery as her heart sped up, trying to catch up with her emotions. I ran my tongue along the flesh, then plunged my teeth in. She was skinny, too skinny to be healthy, so it made the process all the easier.

She kept bleeding all over her bed as I bit several other places on her body.

At bite three, she was hissing at me to kill her, so I could get every last bit of her blood.

That's how the Vampires' venom worked: there was a toxin that switched something in the human brain that made them suicidal. They wanted to give their lives to us.

At bite six, she was practically itching to die. Had I of given her knife right then, she would have slit her pretty throat and wasted all her blood.

I always saved the neck for last.

“You're making a mess,” I told her as she pulled a hand through her hair, staining it with dark red. Her flesh was paler than before, and I knew if I didn't kill her now, she would become-

I grimaced when my brain brought up Isabelle. Sweet, loving Isabelle. She hated me.

I clenched my jaw and stared down at the woman. I knotted my hands in her hair roughly, nearly snapped her neck as I exposed her throat, and pierced both her jugular and carotid artery.

Her heart beat slowed down as I drained her of the remaining life juice in her veins.

When nothing else would come out, I shoved the corpse away and wiped my lips on her sheets. I stared down at the body. What had once been a beautiful young woman was now a white, wrinkled, empty mortal.

For extra measure, I twisted her neck until her spine separated from her skull, and then doused her house in chemicals she had in her bathroom and under the sink. I lit a fire that would burn away all the evidence and made it look like an accident.

Because I was good at those: accidents.