Crimson: An Ultimate Power Series Novella (The Ultimate Power Series #1.5) by L.H. Cosway
Authors: L.H. Cosway
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The Crimson night club, Tribane city...
I stare down at the woman as blood drips from her neck. It is quite an attractive look.
Her naturally blond hair is splayed out around her head, striking a fierce contrast against the black leather couch in my office. Her long, swan-like neck hangs back, an expression of absolute rapture on her face. I don't know what it is about blonds, but I have always had a preference for them. My friend Lucas tells me it's a sign of my narcissism, that I choose women who have features similar to my own. I couldn't care less.
I glance down at my watch to find that it's almost ten o'clock. I'll have to make an appearance out in the club soon. I decide I can spare another five minutes, as I lean back down and take a few more sips from her jugular vein, before licking away the excess blood from her pierced skin. Delicious.
She lets out a little sigh when I pick her up and carry her into the empty room next door. She'll have some privacy in there to sleep off the high from my bite. I can almost smell the endorphins running through her system.
She's wearing an expensive perfume which I find quite appealing, although her natural scent beneath that is nothing unusual. I smile for a moment after I've put her down onto the futon on the floor. I knew from the moment she walked into my club tonight that I would feed from her. She had the kind of appearance I admire; little red dress, long silky hair, a slim figure and honey coloured skin.
I close the door over to allow her some privacy. As I step out into the hallway, I notice my half-sister Delilah walking toward me, a look of irritable determination on her face. She hates it when I leave her to entertain my business associates out in the club. Delilah is a dhamphir, born back in the 1920's to a beautiful Swedish human woman my father been infatuated with for a short period. I don't recall what her name had been, but I do remember what she looked like, and Delilah resembles her a great deal with her alabaster complexion, bright green eyes and fiery red hair.
Delilah has always been something of an anomaly in this city, living amongst vampires despite the fact that the rest of her half human, half vampire counterparts despise us and dedicate their lives to the goal of our extinction.
She lets out a long, theatrical sigh as she approaches me. At my age, you'd think I'd be used to dealing with disgruntled females. Unfortunately, that is something even two hundred and seventy six years of experience cannot provide. Delilah can often be quite moody. Lucas likes to point out it is because she is a perpetual teenager.
Dhamphir genetics tend to dictate that even though a person might be fully grown, they are condemned to the body and appearance of an eighteen year old for a very long time. It will take another fifty years or more for Delilah to move on to looking like an adult in her mid-twenties.
It could be worse, I ponder humorously. She could have fallen victim to a fate akin to the eternal child, Claudia, from the novel Interview with the Vampire . Thinking of this makes me laugh internally. Humans and their mythologies. Little do they know that we vampires do not need to die to become as we are; we are our own species. Born through the occurrence of some wonderful evolution of mankind, to live for a thousand years and survive with the consumption of human blood.
“Ethan,” Delilah begins, crossing her arms over her black dress, “Nicu Arcos is asking for you. I told him I'd go and fetch you for him.”
“You can inform him I'm on my way,” I answer her, before paying a quick visit to the bathroom to wash the red stains from my mouth. I wouldn't want to appear unprofessional. Nicu is a business acquaintance of mine. In fact, he had been good friends with my father Alin back in the Old Country some two hundred or more years ago.
This new club I'm running, which I quite aptly named Crimson (it's sort of an inside joke
I stare down at the woman as blood drips from her neck. It is quite an attractive look.
Her naturally blond hair is splayed out around her head, striking a fierce contrast against the black leather couch in my office. Her long, swan-like neck hangs back, an expression of absolute rapture on her face. I don't know what it is about blonds, but I have always had a preference for them. My friend Lucas tells me it's a sign of my narcissism, that I choose women who have features similar to my own. I couldn't care less.
I glance down at my watch to find that it's almost ten o'clock. I'll have to make an appearance out in the club soon. I decide I can spare another five minutes, as I lean back down and take a few more sips from her jugular vein, before licking away the excess blood from her pierced skin. Delicious.
She lets out a little sigh when I pick her up and carry her into the empty room next door. She'll have some privacy in there to sleep off the high from my bite. I can almost smell the endorphins running through her system.
She's wearing an expensive perfume which I find quite appealing, although her natural scent beneath that is nothing unusual. I smile for a moment after I've put her down onto the futon on the floor. I knew from the moment she walked into my club tonight that I would feed from her. She had the kind of appearance I admire; little red dress, long silky hair, a slim figure and honey coloured skin.
I close the door over to allow her some privacy. As I step out into the hallway, I notice my half-sister Delilah walking toward me, a look of irritable determination on her face. She hates it when I leave her to entertain my business associates out in the club. Delilah is a dhamphir, born back in the 1920's to a beautiful Swedish human woman my father been infatuated with for a short period. I don't recall what her name had been, but I do remember what she looked like, and Delilah resembles her a great deal with her alabaster complexion, bright green eyes and fiery red hair.
Delilah has always been something of an anomaly in this city, living amongst vampires despite the fact that the rest of her half human, half vampire counterparts despise us and dedicate their lives to the goal of our extinction.
She lets out a long, theatrical sigh as she approaches me. At my age, you'd think I'd be used to dealing with disgruntled females. Unfortunately, that is something even two hundred and seventy six years of experience cannot provide. Delilah can often be quite moody. Lucas likes to point out it is because she is a perpetual teenager.
Dhamphir genetics tend to dictate that even though a person might be fully grown, they are condemned to the body and appearance of an eighteen year old for a very long time. It will take another fifty years or more for Delilah to move on to looking like an adult in her mid-twenties.
It could be worse, I ponder humorously. She could have fallen victim to a fate akin to the eternal child, Claudia, from the novel Interview with the Vampire . Thinking of this makes me laugh internally. Humans and their mythologies. Little do they know that we vampires do not need to die to become as we are; we are our own species. Born through the occurrence of some wonderful evolution of mankind, to live for a thousand years and survive with the consumption of human blood.
“Ethan,” Delilah begins, crossing her arms over her black dress, “Nicu Arcos is asking for you. I told him I'd go and fetch you for him.”
“You can inform him I'm on my way,” I answer her, before paying a quick visit to the bathroom to wash the red stains from my mouth. I wouldn't want to appear unprofessional. Nicu is a business acquaintance of mine. In fact, he had been good friends with my father Alin back in the Old Country some two hundred or more years ago.
This new club I'm running, which I quite aptly named Crimson (it's sort of an inside joke
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