Thirst and Temptation

The city was drenched in moonlight, the streets alive with music, neon lights, and the sound of mortal laughter. Humans roamed carelessly, lost in their own little worlds—oblivious to the predators among them.

Kikidori moved through the night like a shadow, his steps soundless, his gaze sharp. He wasn't just walking. He was hunting.

The hunger pulsed inside him—low, steady, waiting. Not desperate, not uncontrollable, but undeniable. It was always there, like a whisper in the back of his mind, a promise in his veins.

Then, he saw her.

She was alone, leaning against the brick wall of a bar's alleyway, barely able to stand. Her dress clung to her like she'd been sweating under the heavy club lights, and her lipstick was smudged from too many drinks, too many careless kisses.

Kikidori tilted his head. Easy prey.

She looked up at him, her eyes hazy. "Hey there, pretty boy," she slurred, a lazy grin spreading across her lips.

Kikidori smirked. Predictable.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his fingers cool against her flushed skin. "You shouldn't be out here alone."

She giggled. "Maybe I was waiting for someone like you."

He leaned in, his voice low. "Then you're in luck."

She shivered, her body already responding to him, already caught in his pull.

Humans were so easy.

He slipped an arm around her waist, steadying her as he led her away from the noisy streets—into the shadows.

—

The rooftop was secluded, hidden from the world below. The city stretched out beneath them, glowing and alive, but up here, it was just them.

She stumbled slightly, but Kikidori caught her, his grip firm, controlled. "Careful," he murmured.

She laughed breathlessly, her hands already reaching for him. "You gonna take care of me?"

Kikidori smirked. "Always."

And then, they smashed.

Her breath was ragged, her body tangled with his, her fingers grasping at anything she could reach. He let her move, let her think she had control, but the truth was—she was already his.

Her scent filled the air—warm, intoxicating, rich with life. Kikidori inhaled slowly, his fangs aching, his hunger sharpening as he moved over her.

His lips brushed her throat.

The perfect spot.

His bite was always the last thing they felt before pure euphoria.

But then—

Her hand shoved against his chest.

Kikidori blinked. That was new.

She panted, her drunken haze flickering for just a second. "N-No," she mumbled, shaking her head weakly. "Don't… don't bite me."

Kikidori stilled. His hunger pulsed.

"Why?" he asked, his voice calm, smooth. Dangerous.

She swallowed hard, her pulse hammering. "I just—don't want you to."

Kikidori exhaled slowly, his patience thinning. He had been generous. He had played along.

But now?

The hunger was done waiting.

He grabbed her wrist—firm, unyielding. "That's not how this works."

She tried to pull away. "Wait—"

His fangs sank into her neck.

She gasped—a sharp, desperate sound that turned into a whimper. Her body stiffened, then relaxed completely, her grip on him loosening.

The moment the blood touched his tongue, a shudder ran through him.

Warm. Sweet. Electric.

Every time, it was like tasting life itself. Like pulling the very essence of existence into his veins.

She whimpered again, her hands sliding up his back, her body melting into his hold.

Kikidori drank deep, his grip on her tightening, his mind hazy with the taste of her—so much better than she even realized.

Then, finally, he pulled away.

She slumped against him, barely conscious, her breathing slow, steady. Alive, but changed.

Kikidori licked his lips, his eyes burning black.

He had won.

He always did.

The End of Chapter 18.