Author: Allanasha Ke Kiri
Rating: T … might change later.Warnings: SLASH
Summary: It was Sunday, and there shouldn't have been a letter in the mailbox, but there was. VampiresChapter 1
It was Sunday, and there shouldn't have been a letter in the mailbox, but there was. I'd opened the box on a whim, not immediately realizing what day it was. I'd gotten into a routine the last several days. I checked the mail exactly at 10AM every morning. By the time my brain had caught up with me, I'd already seen it lying there, looking completely innocent.
It took me a moment to realize that, yes, it was a letter, and it was in my box. Frowning lightly, I reached in and pulled it out. Immediately, I saw my name and address, but it had no return address … and no stamp.
Hand Delivered? I wondered, flipping it over to check the other side. Still nothing.
Belatedly, I glanced down my street. It was completely empty, but that wasn't surprising. Being Sunday, most people were in church. At least, most people on my block were.
Unfortunately, that didn't give me any hint as to the sender. Shaking my head, I closed my mailbox and returned to my warm house. The vast difference from the outside sent chills down my spine as my body attempted to adjust. I really should wear something more during winter.
After locking the door, I made my way to the living room, carefully opening the envelope as I went.
I'm coming tonight, it read. Nothing else was there.
I frowned again, flipping the paper over. Nothing.
"The hell?" I muttered.
Disgusted, I tossed the letter into the can nearby. People paid the sickest of jokes, sometimes. Never had one played on me before, but I'd heard of it happening. People sent threatening letter, getting people worried and paranoid, and sat back to watch the 'entertainment'. The police certainly weren't amused by it, though. Several people who'd gotten letters like this had phoned them, only for absolutely nothing to happen.
I certainly wouldn't be making a fuss. I'd be locking my doors though. I didn't want anyone sneaking in when I didn't prove to be as amusing as they'd hoped I'd be.
Plopping down on my couch, I grabbed the remote and turned on the television. Sure, there were more productive things I could have been doing, but I was feeling Lazy. Besides, it was Sunday. I'm allowed to be lazy on Sundays.
Unfortunately, nothing is ever on. They always expect people to be in church, so they save the good stuff until later. Flipping it to the animal channel, I tossed the remote to the side and slouched down in the couch as I shoved my 'chocolate' brown hair out of my eyes. That's what Cindy calls it anyway, and I guess she'd know. She's an aspiring hair stylist.
I manage to waste about seven hours in front of the television, moving only to get food or drinks, or to go to the bathroom. It's only when it gets dark enough I need lights that I realize how much time I've wasted being lazy.
"Shit," I muttered, dragging myself from the couch to make the rounds.
Before long, I'd locked every door and window on both stories. My patents would be pissed if something was broken (or missing) when they returned in 2 weeks. I was 19 and they still didn't trust me alone. This was my chance to prove that I was a responsible adult … well, mostly responsible. I wasn't having any wild parties at least. And I'd be damned if anything was wrong with the house when they returned.
When I was done, I made my way to the kitchen for a soda. The light from the fridge spilled into the darkening room and it was why movement caught the corner of my eye. Glancing up, I frowned and turned to face the kitchen door. Those stupid kids had better not be trying to break in.
Grabbing my soda, I let the door swing shut and approached the kitchen's door. Reaching just beyond the frame, I flicked up the switch, letting the light shine outside as I gazed through the glace.
I continued to look for a bit longer, but when nothing caught my eye, I flipped the switch off again.
"Getting paranoid," I told myself as I turned back to the living room.
I gave up at about 10, tired of the boring shows that were determined to infest my programming, and turned off the television. Setting the remote on the side table, I stood and stretched before heading out of the room. My hand caught the light switch as I went.
Of course, that meant my trip upstairs would be in absolute darkness, but I knew the route by heart. I'd grown up in this house. Even so, I let one hand drag across the wall as I walked. For some reason, it helped to keep my mind from imagining the various scenarios, monsters in the dark, waiting for me. Just as I reached the stairs, a noise caught my attention.
I froze, barely breathing as I listened. There was nothing but the sound of my own, carefully controlled breathing. Sighing, I shook my head and turned back to the stairs.
There it was again. This time, my heart leapt up into my throat. That was someone in my house. Silently turning, I followed the wall towards the sound. The Kitchen.
Peeking around the frame, I glanced around. Nothing. Again. Not even a moving shadow. Still, I remained silent, listening for anything out of the ordinary. All was still. Finally, the tension bled out of me.
"Just my damn imagination," I grumbled, shaking my head.
As I turned away, I caught sight of a shadow moving, detaching from the wall and shooting across the room, all without a single sound. My hand shot for the light switch, but as the light flickered on, there was nothing there.
Silently, I eased further into the kitchen; approaching the spot I'd seen the shadow flee.
Halfway between the door and my destination, the light shut off. I tensed again, spinning in place to try and see the person. Nothing. My eyes narrowed as my anger finally rose, overwhelming my fear.
"Whoever the hell you are, either get out or show yourself," I snapped.
Personally, I'd prefer if they just got out. Unfortunately, from the low, rich chuckle that literally filled the room, it wasn't going to happen. However, I knew that, somehow, there was someone in my home.
Spinning in place, I marched to the wall where the phone rested. I'd no sooner covered it with my hand when another, bigger, one laid over mine, pinning it to the phone and refusing to let go. For a moment, I just stared at the limb, then, when my brain caught up, I jerked back. My back hit someone's chest, but the strong hand never released mine. In fact, its grip tightened.
Shifting, I tried to pull away, not wanting to be so close to the intruder, but another arm snaked around my waist, pulling me tightly against the chest and pinning one of my arms to my side. Immediately, I began struggling against him.
It didn't do any good. He might as well have been made of stone for how well I moved the guy. Which was surprising. At 5'8, I might not have been exceptionally tall, but I wasn't weak. From the intruder's reaction, though, I might have been nothing more than a twig for all the effort he had keeping me still.
When it became obvious it wasn't moving, and the man wasn't letting me go, I opened my mouth to call for help. A hand covered my mouth, and it took me a moment to realize it had been the one holding my hand to the phone.
Quickly, he dragged me away from the phone, and I didn't let go quickly enough, so it slipped off the base and hung at the end of its cord.
Great, even if someone called, they'd assume I was talking to someone else. I still tried to yell for help, but nothing came out that would carry. My attempts cut off abruptly when the man leaned down until his lips brushed my ear.
"I can smell your fear." His voice was dark and smooth, and just as rich as the laugh had been earlier. It sent unwilling shivers down my spine. He sounded like pure sin.
I flinched when something warm and wet ran down my neck. A tongue. He was licking me! My struggles renewed, as did my attempts to cry for help, but he paid them no mind. The hand around my mouth tightened, and he pulled it to the side, leaving my head now choice but to tilt, exposing my neck to him.
"Perfect," the man murmured. I only heard it because of how close he was. I protested immediately, my yelling greatly muffled by the hand that refused to let go. He chuckled again, the sound seeming to caress my skin. I didn't want him to laugh, damn it! I wanted him to let me the fuck go!
"Hush, Christian," he said, startling me back to silence. My name … he knew my name?
Lips against my throat brought me back to what was important, and my frantic struggles resumed. Once again, he ignored me as his lips parted. Teeth grazed my throat for a moment before he bit me.
I jerked (attempting to get away), but it was useless. As his teeth actually pierced my skin, I let out a cry of pain. He paid it no more mind than he had my struggles as he began sucking.
He was drinking my blood! What kind of sick freak broke into someone's home to suck their blood? His grip didn't loosen as he drank, something I made sure to check.
Well, I thought, at least he wouldn't be long. I'd have to stop bleeding before long.
For several minutes, a lot longer than I thought it would be, the only sounds in the room was his soft sucking. Finally, I began to feel heavy, tired, and I realized just how much he was taking from me. My legs gave out on me, but the man just tightened his grip to keep me upright. It almost hurt, I realized distantly, as my eyes began to droop. I didn't have the strength to keep them open.
Oh dear god, I thought, fear filling me even as my strength completely left, I'm going to die … I don't want to die.
It was to his quiet sucking that my consciousness fled.
Important, please read: All right, so yes, this is another story of mine, but this one is going to be a little different. If you'll look at the top of the chapter, you'll notice that the first sentence is highlighted. I got that from a online prompt generator. Each chapter is going to be started with a prompt.
I will happily accept prompts from readers, in fact, I encourage them, because there is only so many I can seem to find online … ANYWHERE.
So, if you have a prompt for me, leave it in a review … And of course, Reviews are much liked an appreciated.
Btw, is anyone else having problems with their document manager … or their profile? Whenever I try to edit my file, it all shows up in a three line opening … it's really rather annoying.