Chapter One
I was alone in the darkened streets of L.A. I was always alone. Always hunting. Hunting to quench the hell's thirst bestowed upon me so many years ago. Hunting to fill the utter loneliness I felt through the pain of others. Though, it was not always so. Once I cared. Cared about the poor creatures called humans. Now, it no longer mattered. I had long ago accepted what I was, what I had become. Nosferatu, the unclean. The vampire. The hunter and the hunted. Witches had hunted down my kind for many years, and I had seen all. In my youth, I had openly practiced witch burnings, but no longer. I had become accustomed to just taking things as they come.
But I was Kristoph Savage. One of the oldest, most powerful, most revered vampires on this planet. Cold and merciless, I show no emotion. None could know any weakness of mine; that itself would bring my destruction. My kind look to me in times of war, and otherwise avoid me whenever possible. I was completely alone. The thought to end my meaningless existence had crossed my mind many a time, but the conviction had never came with the thought.
However, as I walked through the dark and quiet streets, death sounded acceptable to even my strong instinct to survive. But, as I turned into a dark alleyway, the thought was quickly stamped down at the scent of prey.
She was young. No more than fifteen, and by the look of the clothing she wore, a prostitute. She gave me a slow seductive smile and I returned it, offering my arm. She accepted with a wink and I lead her to a dark corner. Catching her mind in a firm grasp so she wouldn't scream, I sunk my teeth deep, marveling at how quickly my strength returned to me. I had not fed in several days. She would not be saved this night.
Once my appetite was curbed, I set her down gently, sending a ball of fire to greet her limp body, making sure there were only ashes remaining. Humans could never learn of our kind. Wars had broken out in the past, and if we were to be discovered again, history would repeat itself.
My job done, I looked to the sky. Dawn would not be upon me for several hours, but I need rest before tomorrow. A reporter had called and made an appointment to make an article about my home, and something about the way he talked had made me agree. Contrasting with the human myths, we could come out during the day, but older one aged, the more our eyes and skin grew sensitive to the sun's light. I needed to be rested up before our meeting; otherwise I would look like the living dead that I was. That in itself was not very appealing, so winged home and into the basement where I slept the sleep of my people.
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I had been on the road for half an hour now, and I was still fuming. My father, who was editor-in-chief at one of the hotshot newspapers in LA, had nearly broken my arm in forcing me to do this article for him. I was to drive a hundred-million miles out of town, find this stuffy, old mansion and interview an equally stuffy old man on his house. Don't get me wrong, I was all for joy rides and looking at antique houses, but I absolutely hated doing articles for my father. There wasn't enough creative writing involved and it was agonizingly boring.
Ever since my father had taken over the business from his father when he died, Dad had always tried to get me into writing and editing. He had succeeded, to a certain extent. Instead of becoming a reporter as he had hoped, I had become a part time author. To top it all off I was now currently in art school for interior design. Dad had nearly blown a gasket when he found out what I was going to school for. We had gotten into a humongous fight and we rarely talked anymore, not that we really ever did anyway.
As the house came into view, I checked myself in the rear-view mirror one last time, making sure my make-up was not too heavy, but noticeable all the same. I ran a hand through my knee length black hair and put half of it up in a bun, letting the rest hang down to my waist. I never let my hair down too long. The length of it brought way too much unwanted attention.
Content with my appearance, I drove though the open gates and up what seemed like a mile long driveway.
'Ok, his name is… Savage… right. Mr. Savage.' I reminded myself mentally.
"Ooh! I am so bad with names!" I said in exasperation, to no one at all.
I pulled up to the house and stared at it a moment. The thing could have passed off as a castle it was that big. I took a deep breath and killed the engine, unfortunately, as I did so, it started to downpour. Not just a mild downpour, but rain coming down in sheets so fast you'd think it were solid.
"Great." I muttered, "It only rains in LA once in a blue moon and it chooses now of all times to do so. Just great."
Noting that I did not have an umbrella in the car, I decided to make a dash for the front porch. As soon as I got there, I was, surprisingly enough, not very wet. My hair had taken most of the hit, but my clothes were relatively dry. I raised my hand to the knocker, but did not have time to knock. As soon as I raised my hand, the door opened to reveal the furthest thing from what I had expected.
He was tall, and had fine muscular tone. Power seemed to cling to him like a second skin. His jet-black hair matched his completely black outfit, his black silk shirt formed to him, revealing a graceful rippling of muscles as he moved, the top slightly agape, two buttons undone. He had high cheekbones and a well-defined face. And his eyes… so taunting… so tormented… so… indescribingly mesmerizing… were black ice and obsidian. I nearly lost myself in his eyes.
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I opened the door to the intruder, expecting the man I had talked to over the phone, but instead finding a young woman, probably in her early twenties, late teens. Her eyes widened as I opened the door, and I found myself instantly drawn to her eyes. They were of a deep mahogany wood; reddish brown. Her pupils, almost cat-like in shape, had a silver border to them, making her eyes stand out even more than the traditional black colored eyes of my kind. Her eyes held secrets, promises, hurts. I found myself wanting to ease the pains out of those beautiful eyes. Moving from her eyes I found high cheekbones in smooth, graceful arches, almost begging for a man's caress. Flawless facial features and full, lush lips, slightly pursed in an almost surprised manor, nearly crying out for attention. The suit-jacket she wore almost hid her narrow ribcage and full breasts, but not quite. The skirt she wore was shorter and revealed long, well toned, muscular legs. Her bronze-tan skin and long black hair hinted Mexican decent, but her sharper facial features hinted Native American.
She blinked several times, bringing my attention back to her eyes, and cleared her throat.
"Mr. Savage, I presume?" She addressed formally.
"Please, call me Kristoph." I returned, flashing a charming smile.
"Kristoph, then. I'm Katana Castico. I'm with the…"
"Oh, you must be the reporter. It sounded like a man on the phone, excuse me for not expecting you. Please come on in." I offered, stepping back to allow her entrance.
"It's fine. I'm not a reporter though; I'm a reporter's daughter. It must've been my father you talked with." She replied, stepping in and running her fingers through her wet hair. The simple act made me want to bury my own fingers in the thickness of her hair.
"So… where shall we start?" She asked suggestively.
I paused a moment, wondering if what she had said held a hidden meaning. Deciding she was acting way too innocent for such, I shook it off and answered her inquiry.
"Well, if you would follow me, we can start in the parlor. Would you care for a drink?" I inquired formally.
"Thank you, but…" She started to refuse, but the words must have been lost on the way to her mouth as we entered the parlor. "Water would be nice, thanks."
"Not much of a drinker?" I commented.
"I don't bite, if that's what you mean." She teased with a wicked smile.
"Ah, but I do. Better be careful." I stated truthfully.
She turned to me with a raised eyebrow and a half-smile gracing her lips.
"Is that so?" She asked, not believing, but playing along anyway.
A charming smile was the only response she received and she turned back to her inspection. She wondered around the room, occasionally touching pieces of furniture with a butterfly's caress, as though they would break underneath her fingertips. She turned back and gave a low whistle.
"You're obviously impressed, why the shocked face?" I inquired, handing to her, her water.
"Oh, it's nothing. Just that everything in this room is worth about a million dollars on its own." She replied sarcastically, sitting down gracefully and crossing her long legs.
"Really?" I asked, pretending to act mildly surprised.
"Yes, really. This furniture has to be at least three hundred years old, and in perfect condition. An antique dealer would have a heart attack." She stated shaking her head.
"Wait till you see the rest of the house." I said offering a hand to help her up. She took it warily, obviously not totally convinced by my charm.
Somehow, I hadn't the slightest clue how, but this girl was somehow immune to my deadly charm and lethal eyes. Most of those who look into my eyes are paralyzed, even hypnotized by them. Her natural instincts were telling her to be wary of me, even though I had warped my natural aura to appear normal. Also, she was the first and only woman who wasn't throwing herself at me at the sight of me. All of this was confusing, if not intriguing. I decided to get more information about her before I let her go. She could never stay too long. I was cursed to be alone and stay alone for the rest of my existence. I could never force such a beautiful creature as herself to endure such a monster as me for too long. She would get her story and leave, after my questions of her.
I led her from room to room, telling her a small story about each room, never quite knowing why I was sharing with her so much of my home, my past. I had never really figured out why I had agreed to let a reporter into my home in the first place. But as I watched her look through each room, her eyes bright, her gaze taking in every bit of art and beauty she could, my own cold heart melted and began to live again. I found myself following each of her movements with a predator's grace, a bit more possessive than usual. I turned my gaze away, realizing I was marking her as prey, my victim, only to be mine. If she died, it would be at my hand. If she was to have a lover, I was to be the one sharing her bed. But I couldn't do that to her. If I had any shred of decency left, I wouldn't.
As I turned back to her, she looked at me through worried eyes and my heart melted. No one had ever thought to care or worry about me. Even humans were only after my money… or my head. And with the realization of her pure heart, I had to turn away again, knowing I could never allow myself to have her, I would never force something so pure into my existence. Though I had accepted my ways long ago, and would never go back, I could never curse her to do so.
A gentle, yet strong hand touched my shoulder and I turned to meet inquiring eyes.
"Are you ok, Kristoph? You look a bit paler than usual. Maybe I should leave so you can get some rest?" She inquired of me worriedly.
Yes, she should leave, but for other reasons than her own.
"No." I replied, in spite of myself, "There is but one room left."
She nodded, casting me another worried glance.
As we entered she paused, looking about the room, staring at each piece of artwork. She glided over to one in particular and touched it lightly, almost a caress, then turned to me,
"Where did you get these?" She asked breathlessly.
"I bought them at an auction a few years ago. They caught quite a high price." I replied with a raised eyebrow.
"I'm sure they did." She replied, too sadly for my liking.
"Why did you want to know?" I asked.
"Oh, I thought I recognized one of the paintings. It's nothing." She stated, not quite meeting my gaze.
She turned toward the door.
"I think I should go now, it's getting dark.." She said slowly, looking for a reason to leave.
I turned to the window and, indeed, the sun was falling beneath the horizon at a fast rate. I moved closer to the window.
"And it is also still raining. I'm afraid I can't let you go out in this weather." I stated firmly.
"And why not? I'm perfectly capable of driving in the rain." She said, looking offended.
"Not when it has flooded the roads." I replied calmly.
"What?!" She exclaimed, gracefully bolting to the window and looking out.
"Great… now what?" She asked of the ceiling.
"I have a few extra rooms. You're welcome to stay the night." I offered carefully.
She turned to me with a raised eyebrow, and I threw my hands up.
"It was a purely gentlemanly offer." I stated with an innocent look.
"We'll see about that." She said, turning away.
"Not very trusting are you?" I asked as I led her to a suitable room.
"No, I've been burned enough to know not to be." She stated softly.
My gaze darted to her to find her face solemn.
"I see." I said as I stopped outside the door of the room she was to be given. "I will come and get you for dinner. Feel free to freshen up. There is clothing in the wardrobe that you will find fits. You're welcome to change into something a bit more comfortable."
She ran a slightly unsteady hand through her still damp hair.
"Thank you very much… you've been very hospitable. I thought everyone hated reporters." She said with a half-smile.
"You're not a reporter." I said with a grin. She returned it.
"Never will be either. Thanks again, Kristoph. I really appreciate it." She stated, her big eyes sincere.
"It is nothing." With that she smiled and shut the door behind her.
I nearly fainted when I saw the room he had given me. Everything was furnished in mahogany. Standing in the middle of the room was a king-sized canopy bed, the bedspread, even the plush comforter and pillows, were made of silk. The carpet was plush and a deep, almost black, blue. The heavy curtains, window drapes, and all the linen on the bed were the deep, deep color of blood. The bed linen had beautiful embroidered designs in black silky thread.
I took off my shoes and crossed the plush carpet bare-foot, enjoying the feel of it. I went to the wardrobe and set my purse down on the bed behind me. Not a pair of pants adorned the wardrobe's shelves or drawers, instead elegant dresses filled the compartment, made of expensive materials, like silk and satin, some almost completely see-through.
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I slowly let out a low whistle and set to picking an outfit. I eventually decided on a blood-red dress with black embroidered dragons and symbols and black see-through sleeves that fell to mid thigh and hung loosely, fanning out like wings. The dress itself seemed like it flowed around me like water, catching my curves nicely and complimenting my slender neck. My mother's pendent gleamed in the light and accented the dress well. The molded silver dragon and cobra wound around a sword had always led my friends and others at school to believe I was a witch. The dragon's ruby eyes, the cobra's obsidian eyes, and the big emerald that was set into the sword, always seemed to glow in warning whenever I was angry or in a fight, feeding the rumors at school. I just hoped Kristoph wouldn't get that impression…
After grabbing supplies from my purse and re-doing my make-up, I looked at myself in the mirror. Not only did I find that I looked very much like a vampiress, only lacking the pale skin, but I couldn't help but notice that maybe the dress was a bit too inviting, and showed a bit too much cleavage.
Before I could even think about changing, there was a knock at the door. Replacing my earrings with ones that better matched my outfit, I hurried to the door. Once opened, I found myself staring into those icy-black eyes. At once he broke the spell.
"My lady." He addressed with a slight bow at the waist and offering an arm, "You look stunning." He commented.
I took the arm He offered with a small half smile and let him lead me away.
"I hope you don't mind, but I do have a few other guests." He informed me as we made our way to the dining hall.
"Oh, I don't mind. It is your house after all, but I suppose I am to accompany you as your… lady, as you so nobly put it." I inquired looking up at him for an answer.
"I am not going to force you to do so, but there are one or two bachelors in the group and you are quite attractive…"
"Yah, I get the point, but… nothing too intimate, ok? We only just met and that's all they have to know." I stated, interrupting him.
"My word as a gentleman. I wouldn't dream of it." He agreed a wolfish grin plastered on his lips.
I raised an eyebrow at him and sent him a chilly glare.
'How did his guests arrive anyway?' I questioned myself.