CHAPTER EIGHT

The echoes of Eleanor, the memory of her vulnerability, momentarily faded as I descended back into the familiar depravity of Crimson. The hunt for her had stirred something unfamiliar within me, a possessiveness that bordered on obsession. But tonight, the primal urges, the centuries-old cravings, demanded attention.

Back in the VIP section, the sight of Lucian, ever the hedonist, didn't shock me. A young blonde, barely a woman, was servicing him, her head at his crotch. I'd seen it all before, countless times.

Yet, tonight, my gaze lingered, not on the act itself, but on the blonde's devotion, the rhythmic bobbing of her head, the raw display of sensual servitude. A flicker of something close to...envy? No, it was more...longing. A yearning for that unbridled release.

Lucian, perceptive as ever, caught my eye. A knowing smirk played on his lips. With a single, languid finger, he beckoned me closer. I moved like a moth to a flame, drawn into his orbit. He dismissed the Crimson employee with a curt word and a wave of his hand, the plush velvet curtains drawn shut, sealing us off from the prying eyes of the mortal world. It was time for a symphony of sin, a cathartic release of pent-up desires.

Lucian then pulled the blonde up from off him and motioned her to go in front of me. The girl, trained in the art of immediate gratification, didn't hesitate. She dropped to her knees before me, her touch surprisingly gentle as she freed my engorged cock, and a jolt of pure, unadulterated pleasure shot through me.

My hand instinctively went to her hair, clenching tightly as she worked her magic. With my other hand, I reached for Lucian, already fully erect. His throbbing flesh pulsed in my grasp, a mirror of my own arousal.

Lucian leaned in, his lips brushing against mine in a savage, possessive kiss. He groaned against my mouth as I pumped him tirelessly. The whore's mouth was a furnace, engulfing me in a wave of heat, while the feel of Lucian's hardened cock in my hand was grounding, familiar. We were two sides of the same coin, bound by our shared hunger, our insatiable thirst for pleasure.

I pulled the blonde up, wanting her closer, wanting her now. "Sit," I commanded, my voice a low growl. She obeyed instantly, straddling me, her wet cunt sliding down my shaft. Lucian chuckled, a low, throaty sound that vibrated through me. He climbed onto the bench, his eyes burning with anticipation, and plunged his massive cock into my mouth.

It was overwhelming, almost suffocating, yet I took it all, reveling in the feel of him, the taste of him. Lucian slammed into my face, again and again, his hips thrusting with primal force. I was lost, drowning in a sea of sensation, the blonde grinding against me, Lucian's cock filling my mouth, every nerve ending screaming with delight.

Lucian pulled back abruptly, denying me his seed. A selfish act, but one I understood. He jumped off the bench, and in a fluid motion, I laid back, the blonde still impaled on my cock. Lucian moved behind her, and without warning, rammed himself into her ass. A scream, a mix of pleasure and pain, ripped from her throat. Our rhythm became one, a synchronized dance of lust and domination.

I grabbed the blonde by her hair, yanking her head back, exposing her delicate throat. My fangs extended, sinking into her flesh, and the warm, metallic rush of her blood flooded my senses. She gasped, but didn't resist. She couldn't.

Lucian, not to be outdone, sunk his fangs into the back of her shoulder, joining the feast. We drank our fill as we pounded into her, lost in the oblivion of primal ecstasy. Blood, sweat, and breathless moans filled the air, a testament to our insatiable hunger.

Eleanor, for now, was forgotten, lost in the haze of pure, unadulterated pleasure. Tonight, the game had taken a detour, a descent into the depths of our depraved desires. And I, for one, was more than willing to indulge.

The blonde, her body spent, lay limp beneath us, a pale canvas painted with crimson streaks. Her chest rose and fell faintly, a reassurance that we hadn't crossed the line, not completely. We merely used her, drained her, and brought her to the brink of oblivion to satisfy not only our hunger for blood but primal desires.

A wave of apathy washed over me, the usual post-coital emptiness settling in. Yet, something lingered, a faint echo of the possessiveness I had felt earlier, the one stirred by Eleanor. Why? Why the sudden...interest?

I was two centuries old, hardened by countless encounters, indifferent to the fleeting lives of mortals. They were entertainment, sustenance, vessels for our pleasure. Eleanor…she was different. Her vulnerability had been like a siren's call, a challenge to my carefully constructed indifference. Had I become weary of my own kind?

Lucian, ever the astute observer, watched me with those knowing eyes of his. "You seem…distracted, Kaelen," he murmured, wiping a smear of blood from his lips. "Not your usual self. Thinking about your little doll are we?"

I scoffed, trying to dismiss the unsettling feeling with a practiced shrug. "Just tired, Lucian. This one was…energetic." A partial truth. The blonde had been a willing participant, even eager, but she was merely a distraction, a fleeting moment of gratification.

Lucian didn't press the issue, but his eyes held a flicker of curiosity, perhaps even concern. "Tired? You, Kaelen? After a symphony like that?" He raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

Lucian knew me too well, had been my companion in depravity for far too long. He could sense the slightest shift in my demeanor, the subtlest tremor in the carefully constructed facade.

"It's been a long night," I insisted, the words feeling hollow even to my own ears. "I need to rest. I think I'll head up."

Lucian didn't press the issue, but his eyes held a flicker of curiosity, perhaps even concern. "Very well. Sweet dreams, old friend. Try not to dream of mortal infatuations."

The elevator ride was silent, the mirrored walls reflecting my own distorted image. I looked weary, older than my already considerable years. The hunt for Eleanor had taken a toll, not physically, but emotionally.

I prided myself on my detachment, my ability to compartmentalize, but she had somehow breached the walls, stirred something dormant within me. Was I capable of caring for a mortal, or did I simply want to possess her?

My apartment, a stark contrast to the opulent excess of Crimson, was minimalist and modern. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city sprawling beneath me.

I stripped off my blood-soaked clothing, the scent of the blonde and Lucian clinging to my skin. I stepped into the shower, the scalding water washing away the grime, both literal and metaphorical. But it couldn't wash away the thought of Eleanor.

After drying off, I stood naked by the window, the cool night air raising goosebumps on my skin. The city hummed with a restless energy, a symphony of sirens and car horns, the faint pulse of mortal life. I was a predator, an apex creature in this concrete jungle. Yet, tonight, I felt…lost.

I sank onto the edge of my bed, the cool silk sheets a stark contrast to the heat that still lingered within me. Eleanor. Her name echoed in the silence of my apartment, a haunting melody that refused to be silenced.

Her beauty was undeniable, a fragile bloom in a world of thorns but I have known many beautiful women over the course of my life. It came and went as easily as the next new trend. It was her scent that was the intoxicant that wrapped around my soul. Like a moth to a flame, I'd find myself drawn to her.

Vampires were creatures of instinct, primal beings driven by hunger and lust. We were gods in our own right, and the mortals were our playthings. They were there to worship us, to serve us, to provide us with sustenance and release. I knew this. I had lived it for centuries.

But Eleanor…she was different. I craved her, not just her blood, but something more, something I couldn't quite define. Was it her fear, her vulnerability, that excited me? Or was it something deeper, something closer to…connection?

Ridiculous. I was a creature of the night, a predator, not a lovesick mortal. I needed to regain my focus, reassert my control. I would find Eleanor, I would have her, and then I would forget her. She was merely a distraction, a brief detour from the path I had walked for so long. I would not let her unravel me. I would not let her awaken feelings best left buried.

The city lights twinkled below, indifferent to my internal turmoil. The hunt would continue. And I, Kaelen, would emerge victorious, unscathed, and unchanged. This, I swore to myself. I would deny the flicker of something in my heart and return to the darkness that was my true nature. For that was all there was to me.