CHAPTER SEVEN

The irresistible pull was nearly unendurable. Lilies. That's what she smelled like, lilies and something else, something uniquely Eleanor. The scent of her, haunting the air around Thompson Lane, was an overpowering concoction that threatened to dismantle the meticulously constructed self-restraint I so fiercely maintained. Centuries of discipline, honed to a razor's edge, were fraying with every breath I took near her.

I moved like a wraith, a being born of the night, merging into the darkness between the houses. The manicured lawns and neatly trimmed hedges felt like a mocking stage set for this performance, this internal war I waged against my own nature. The air grew dense with her essence as I approached her home, a quaint, unassuming cottage engulfed by the tranquil neighborhood. A splash of color amidst the beige conformity; much like Eleanor herself.

By the time I reached her window, my senses were in turmoil. Intoxicating, exhilarating, raw… the desire to taste her, to feel her pulse beneath my fingertips, tore at the boundaries of my discipline. My skin prickled, the ancient vampire in me roaring to be unleashed.

My fangs throbbed, a painful reminder of the ancient hunger that governed my kind. But I held firm, compelling myself to observe, to strategize. This wasn't driven by mere instinct; it was a calculated maneuver. I had survived for centuries by not succumbing to the beast within.

I peered through the crack in her curtains. A sliver of lamplight painted a picture of domestic tranquility. There she was. Eleanor. Even more enchanting than I recalled from our fleeting encounter at Crimson. The way her hair, the color of spun moonlight, caught the light, the slight curve of her cheekbones... it was almost unbearable.

The memory of rescuing her from that sleazy businessman, whom I'd mentally nicknamed "the Suit," resurfaced in my mind, sharp and possessive. His cheap cologne still clung to the air, a faint, repulsive reminder of his touch. A possessive growl rumbled deep in my chest. He had dared to lay his hands on what was mine, or at least whatwouldbe mine. The thought of his fingers on her skin ignited a fire that threatened to consume me.

Tonight, she was a picture of domesticity, blissfully unaware of the predator lurking just outside her window. Enveloped in an oversized t-shirt, faded band logo barely visible, and sporting ridiculous socks - thick, striped things that clashed horribly - she resembled a lost angel more than a potential… meal. The sheer normalcy of it was disarming, a chink in my armor.

She held a book, its cover a somber tapestry of skulls and roses. "The Morbid Muse." A smirk tugged at my lips. So she appreciated the darker side of life, did she? A kindred spirit lurked beneath the innocent facade. I could certainly provide that, in spades.

I watched her linger on the couch, a fragile creature bathed in the warm glow of the lamp. The light caught the downy fuzz on her cheek. I analyzed every movement, every subtle shift in her expression. The way she bit her bottom lip as she read, lost in the words, the graceful curve of her neck, vulnerable and exposed, the way her fingers traced the words on the page, as if trying to absorb their essence. Each observation added another layer to the intricate portrait I was constructing in my mind. A portrait that would soon be mine alone.

Then, she yawned, a small, involuntary sound that seemed strangely intimate even through the glass. The way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she did... damn. She set the book aside and disappeared down a narrow hallway, vanishing behind a door at the far end. Her bedroom. My senses heightened, every nerve ending screaming for me to follow.

I slid along the side of the house, a silent predator stalking its prey. The cool brick scraped against my skin, grounding me, reminding me of the necessity for control. The shadows clung to me, concealing my form as I crept closer to her bedroom window. My breath hitched as I peered inside, my heart pounding against my ribs with an unfamiliar intensity. A mortal heart would have surely burst.

She was entering the bathroom, off of her bedroom. I watched as she pulled her shirt over her head, exposing her perfectly sculpted collarbones, the delicate curve of her shoulders. Her breath hitched. She quickly stepped out of what looked to be a mismatched pair of shorts and then reached for the socks that I had noticed before. She peeled them off one at a time.

There she was, my angel, fully naked for my eyes only. Her skin glowed with a soft, pearlescent sheen. She stepped into the shower, the sound of the water a tantalizing whisper. I waited and watched as she got out, dried herself off with a thick, fluffy towel, her movements languid and graceful. The water beaded on her skin. She tossed her hair from side to side and walked into her room. My mouth was watering, my fangs aching. She threw on another too big tee shirt and a pair of red lace panties. The contrast of the innocent shirt and the sensual underwear was a potent combination.

She had switched off the overhead light, plunging the room into near darkness. The only illumination came from the cold, blue light of her phone, casting her face in an ethereal glow.

She lay in bed, propped against the pillows, scrolling through…what? Social media? Texts? It didn't matter. All that mattered was that she was there, vulnerable, beautiful, and completely oblivious to the danger lurking just outside her window. The scent of her was a tangible thing now, thick and almost suffocating. Lilies and sunshine.

A wave of possessiveness washed over me, so potent it almost brought me to my knees. I wanted to be inside, beside her, breathing in her scent, feeling the warmth of her skin against mine. To bury my face in the crook of her neck and lose myself in her essence.

I wanted to protect her, to shelter her from the world, to lock her away where no one else could ever even gaze upon her. The thought was...disturbing. Terrifying. And utterly irresistible. A desire to shield her from the ugliness of the world warred with a desire to corrupt her with my own darkness.

Even more, I wanted to be INSIDE her. I wanted to taste her in a deeper way than any other being had ever before. I wanted to be smothered in her scent of lilies and inhale all the sunshine from between her thighs. My cock twitched, a primal response I hadn't felt in decades. It was shocking yet thrilling.

I clenched my fists, fighting to maintain control. This wasn't about surrendering to primal urges. This was about patience, about strategy, about understanding. I needed to know her, to understand her, before I could… claim her. And that required restraint, however agonizing it might be. I was going to know every curve of her body. Every little detail that made her, her.

I watched her for what felt like an eternity, memorizing every detail of her face as the blue light danced across her features. The curve of her jaw, the delicate slope of her nose, the way her eyelashes fluttered against her cheek. I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with her scent, trying to imprint it on my very soul. Etching her image into my mind so that even in the deepest darkness, I wouldn't forget her.

Finally, she sighed, a small, weary sound that resonated deep within me. It was the sound of vulnerability, of exhaustion. A sound that sparked a fierceProtectiveness within me. She placed her phone on the nightstand and closed her eyes. The light faded, leaving her face in shadow. But even in the darkness, I could still see her, could still feel her.

I lingered there for another moment, savoring the anticipation, the thrill of the hunt. The waiting was almost as exquisite as the kill. Then, with a final look, a silent promise, I melted back into the shadows, disappearing into the night. She would be mine. It was only a matter of time.

The hunger was still there, gnawing at me, but so was something else. Something I couldn't quite define. Something that both terrified and intrigued me. Something far more dangerous than the thirst for blood. It was the beginning of obsession and the very real possiblity of love. And I knew, with a chilling certainty, that my carefully constructed world was about to be irrevocably changed. And I would never be the same again.