This hotel is immaculate. It’s the kind of place that guests pay thousands for a night of luxury, but it’s tainted by the exploitation of innocent souls. Somewhere in this building, a girl is having her innocence ripped away by a predator with a hard cock and no morals. She will beg, cry, and plead, but he will keep fucking her like she is an object, not a human. That man will go back to his life, his family, and maybe even his kids, and pretend he didn’t destroy someone’s will to survive. And for what? Power? Money? An orgasm?
The thing is, I am not suicidal; I’m exhausted. I don’t want to die, but I refuse to let myself remain a walking corpse. They can buyme, rape me, beat me, and sell me to the highest bidder, but they do not get to choose how I die. They do not get to force me into submission so deeply that I turn complicit. Some may, but not me. Not when I have already survived so much. Too much.
When I get back to my room, I look around. I see a gilded prison with high-thread-count sheets, expensive clothing, and a view people would die for. I see the countless men fucking me on a bed that was never mine. I see sleepless nights screaming into my pillow, begging God to make the pain stop already. Begging for mercy that will never exist. Begging to turn back time and run a little faster. If I hadn’t come home that day, maybe I could have escaped this fate. If I pulled off the rose colored glasses and realized that my father was always the same monster that gave me up to try and save himself, maybe I wouldn’t be here. Maybe… just maybe… I’d be someone other than me; I wouldn’t be here choosing death over survival. Survival shouldn’t be this painful.
I open the closet and pull back the row of dresses to find the rope I made from torn, braided sheets. It’s taken me a while to construct, so no one grew suspicious of missing sheets, but it’s done. This is how I set myself free.
I’ve thought this through, and I’ve decided that hanging myself is the easiest way. I’ve tried to figure out how to open the windows, but it’s simply impossible without breaking the glass.
I stand on the bed and attach the noose to the chandelier. I’ve tested my body weight on this several times, so I know it will hold me. Once it is secure, I slip the fabric over my head and close my eyes.
This is it. This is my final moment as a captive. Should I savor it? Should I thank God I have survived this long? Should I curse him for not saving me? Of course, he saved me. He gave me free will, and I am using the last shred of it to die.
I step off the end of the bed, and the fabric immediately tightens around my throat. I instinctively thrash and claw at my throat, my brain trying to let me breathe again, but it’s just a façade. An illusion of fighting for survival, but I’ve been there, and I’ve done that. It’s useless. Hopeless. I chose this. I want this.
As my body weakens and the world starts to fade away, I finally know what peace feels like.
Chapter Two
Soren
I dig the knifeacross her throat, savoring the way her blood sprays as her heart pumps in her chest. Her blood coats my lips, so she doesn’t have much left to drain. The pretty ones taste better, but the fighters? Delectable. She was a fighter. She fought me as I fucked her, as I fed from her body, and I think I might even miss how her tears tasted when she begged me for mercy.
“Someone clean this up,” I grunt, watching the blood drip into the tray below her. She is strung up by her feet; the hook caught on the rope binding her ankles.
Drip
Drip
Drip
I don’t know why, but it’s mesmerizing. She’s a skinny bitch, so I didn’t get much blood from her, but it will go to good use between feeding myself and my men.
I lick the sweet crimson from my lips as my fangs retract into my gums. The world sees my kind as fantasy, a figment of folklore and cringy movies, but it’s reality.
People walk around every day, passing me on the street, not knowing I could end their entire miserable existence with one bite.
A heart beats in my chest, but it will never stop. God knows I have tried to make it stop, but I will survive whether I want to or not. I’m a hybrid vampire, conjured by a witch practicing dark magic that she had no business knowing. Over the centuries, I’ve seen both the best and the worst of humanity, but I remain among the cruelest.
Naturally, I have to blend into society to maintain some sort of normalcy. I’ve done many things over the years, but I always come back to private security—getting paid by rich fuckers to get rid of other rich fuckers. Sometimes, when I’m feeling generous, I protect those rich fuckers from other idiots who want to kill them. Humans are so fucking stupid sometimes, but it makes life easier when my profit looks legitimate. Fewer questions, less moving, fewer bodies trailing behind me.
Sure, I could live without a connection to society, but that’s boring. I like the mundane parts of human nature, like grocery shopping. I can prepare and eat whatever I want, but drinking it fresh from the neck of a bitch fighting me while I take her ass is among my favorite ways to feed.
If I’m just feeding, I usually find a willing participant. It’s not as fun, but I still get to fuck her, and I will never have to see her again. There’s nothing worse than a bitch who won’t go the fuck away. Sometimes female hybrids can’t get the fucking hint, but if you rip their fucking head off a few times, they go away.
Because I am one of the first of my kind, I am an alpha of sorts. I’m stronger, faster, and meaner than most of them, but I have held onto parts of my humanity that others do not. I have some semblance of morality when it comes to innocent people. When I feed, I pick the ones who deserve to get knocked down a few pegs. There’s nothing better than sinking my cock and my fangs into a bitch only to send her back to her friends. She always sounds like a raving lunatic talking about a man sucking on her neck. Better yet, fucking a man bloody while feeding from him might even challenge the weak bitches who cry, simply because they won’t say a word. Human men are taught to suppress emotion and never admit their weaknesses, so they are the easiest targets. They fight a little harder, but a hole to fuck is a hole to fill. Oh, and fill it, I do.
Sometimes the humans I feed off of and do not kill end up going to the police. My come is untraceable for humans. It will appear as human, but I’m not a human. I am a monster, and the side of me rooted in darkness will always smother the light of humanity.
Even if I got a woman pregnant, I would be in the clear. I always wear condoms because I’m not stupid. I don’t touch the ones who don’t hurt others or piss me the fuck off, so I would never get her pregnant.
I walk up the steps of my basement, and Micah Hollis, my computer engineer for Montgomery Security Solutions, is sitting at the kitchen table. He’s typing on his laptop with a wineglass full of blood belonging to the bitch downstairs. As he sips on the thick liquid, he looks up at me.
“What’s next?” I ask.
“Well, Ferguson will get her severed head as proof of death. Something about skull fucking his wife one last time,” he muses.
“I meant, what’s the next job?”
