“Yeah. Like that. Suck it,” I hissed.
My fingers twisted in her crimson hair, and I tugged hard, making her cry out with pleasure.
“Stop fucking around. Use your fangs.” I snarled, giving her another quick tug.
A growl burst from my lips when her fangs punctured the shaft of my dick.
Being sucked off and sucked on at the same time was indescribable. Heaven in hell—bliss in blackness.
The darkness had filled me years ago, and sometimes, I let it consume me and rode the wave of sin.
Resting my head on the back of my black leather couch, I released her hair and grabbed the sides of her head, directing my aching cock between her plump lips.
Closing my eyes, I imagined she was warm. Imagined she was a hot-blooded living female with a fiery mouth and a beating heart. If I focused hard enough, I could almost hear her non-existent heartbeat.
It had been over twenty years since I had been with a living woman. One of my favorite things to do was fuck ’em and suck ’em at the same time. That was back when there were more blood bags than we needed, before the living became practically extinct.
I referred to those days as the good ole days. We could go out at night and eat a hardy meal. I could bag two or three fully grown men or women in less than four hours and go to bed that morning feeling full and happy.
Pulling the vamp tramp from my cock, I pressed her into the couch, flipped up her easy access skirt, and fucked her with full force. She looked up at me with red eyes and an open smile. She screeched her release and bit into the side of my neck as she came. I followed behind her with an orgasm that made venom leak from my fangs.
Rolling off her, I pulled up my slacks and buckled my belt.
“The money’s on the counter by the door,” I said.
It was the fifth time I’d had this particular woman. She had tried in the beginning to tell me her name and get to know me, but no name was needed. She was already starting to bore me. When I fucked her, her cheeks would sometimes look pink and remind me of a living girl; it was the only reason I kept fucking her.
I poured myself a glass of homemade absinthe, my friend Rhys’s recipe, and downed it. The burn down my throat soothed my hunger for a brief second or two before it came back even stronger.
Once she was gone, I checked my phone. There was a message from Rhys telling me to come to the hospital as soon as possible. I wasted no time showering and heading out the door.
The alarm on my silver Concept One chirped loudly, and the concrete wall in front of where I was parked lit up when my headlights flashed.
Driving a fast car meant making it there in no time. I could have gotten there faster on foot, but I enjoyed driving places, much to Rhys’s dismay. He preferred the strength and speed we possessed over trivial things like feeling human for the ten-minute drive to a location.
The large, imposing building towered over me minutes later, and I closed my eyes, not looking forward to going inside.
A hospital was usually useless for our kind, but the government had managed upkeep on the old building knowing one day it would be necessary.
I parked out front and handed my keys to a guard standing in wait for me.
“Scratch it and die.”
He nodded his understanding before folding into the driver’s seat and shutting the door behind him. The engine roared to life behind me as my eyes moved across the stone building in front of me.
Ignoring the strange ache inside my gut, I went inside the cooled space and took the elevator to the second floor.
Guards dressed in full black were stationed outside the room I had been called to, letting me know what I was there for. Keeping records of death was depressing, but someone had to do it. Gathering my wits before entering, I took a cleansing unneeded breath.
One thing I always despised was the smell of a hospital. It hadn’t changed a bit over the years. The acrid scent of death, a smell I should be all too accustomed with, somehow seemed thicker in the hallway outside a dying man’s room.
The hospital had been closed for many years, but with deaths now occurring, it was reopened. Vampires who needed hospitals… it was unnatural. Almost as unnatural as we were.
I had spent a lot of time in hospitals over the past couple of months since I was put in charge of keeping track of the losses. It was my job to report the ghastly details of the absolute death, and today was no different.
The woman in room 213 was experiencing her final end. As vampires, we weren’t supposed to know death. We were supposed to be immortal, but as the pale flesh literally melted from her bones in front of me, I knew no one could truly outrun the grim reaper.
The horrid screams of a dead woman dying filled the small hospital room. People crept around outside in the hallway with looks of absolute horror upon their faces. They were all thinking the same thing; it was unnatural for our kind. It struck fear in the unmoving hearts of the fearless.
There was nothing anyone could do but watch. We observed, knowing in a few years—possibly a few months—we too would experience that torture. We too would slowly liquefy. Dead cells can’t continue, they must go away, and that’s all we were—dead cells.
She reached out to her husband and screamed again when her muscles gave way and began to droop.
“Somebody please. Please do something. Help me!” she shrieked.
Her husband’s face was smeared with bloody tears. Crimson glistened down his pastel cheeks and dripped from his chin onto his crisp white shirt. He tried his best to soothe her, whispering calming words to her that never made it past her blood-curdling screams.
It was really happening. The government knew it was possible one day, but we had no idea it would be so soon. Vampires were dying one by one, which was exactly as nature had intended, but it wasn’t fun to wait for it to happen. We’d exhausted all our options, and as a race, there was nothing we could do to stop it.
She died twenty minutes after I arrived, and as I marked her name and time of death onto her file, I knew things were about to get a whole lot worse for us.