Musings of an Immortal (Part One)

*Also on Wattpad* For people who love vampire stories, stories with dark themes focused around unrequited love, and vampire lovers.
"You could be a queen. No, a goddess. An immortal goddess, free from death and all of life's pain."

A tale of sweet seduction fraught with hateful bitterness.

Genevieve Nicolette is the victim of unrequited love. She's the obsession of a ruthless vampire. He's heartless and yet he swears he loves her. But when Genevieve gives him the proverbial cold shoulder this sadistic monster will stop at nothing to get her, the one he believes to be his mate.
Killing, torture, savage cruelty are all within his forte. And when he wants something, he's relentless until he achieves his desires.
Genevieve and everyone she knows and loves is in danger of this immortal's unforgiving wrath.

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7. Chapter Five

That night Genevieve was plagued by yet another nightmare.

  She saw herself in front of a water basin. She was a pale as death, as pale as Barnabas. Her raven black hair was loose and left down untamed, to flow down her back. Her upper body was bare, but she felt no embarrassment. Her dark eyes glowed, burning in the dimly lit room. Her nails were now very sharp and they were also pointed. Black and jagged, and blood trickled down her hand.

  She had a wedding veil that dragged the ground, and in front of that was a gold crown. Shimmering brightly, obviously polished to perfection. So bright someone would be able to see their reflection, but not her, she held no reflection.

  She had two fangs, stained red with blood. Blood ran from her lips down her chin.

  A figure dressed in all black, came up behind her. He wrapped her in his arms, she snuggled into his touch, against his cool skin. He turned her towards him. He kissed her, her nails dug into the flesh of his back during the impassioned embrace. He ignored the bloody scrapes down his back, he nibbled on her neck lightly with his fangs.

  She looked into the cold eyes of Barnabas, and he had her blood trickling down his chin.

With that, she awoke.

*~*~*~*

She was sweating, and yet, she was cold. Chills traveled up and down her spine. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, so to speak. Would she always have to suffer these horrid nightmares, would he forever plague her? These questions through Genevieve's stomach into a whirling mix of dread and disgust.

She lets her mind drift to earlier in the evening. She was confident she had done the right thing. Barnabas must have got her point when he showed up, and she refused to come down.

Genevieve didn't feel the need to tell anyone what she had seen Barnabas do. She might be committed, her family might have her hauled off to the madhouse. And Barnabas could hurt her, or her family. As much as she disagreed with her mother, and as much as her sister hated her, she didn't wish any harm to befall them.

Her flesh tingled, she could still feel his cold touch. She could still recall the taste of the blood that had been upon his lips. The intoxicating smell that surrounded him, those eyes that called to her. His soul was ripe with the smell of death, but she too bore the smell.

There was something so magical about his touch, and so very frightening. Even in a dream.

She stood, walked to the open window and sat down on the window seat. The moon bathed her in its light.

"Look, my dear, even the moon longs to touch you. Just as I do." Barnabas gives her a wide toothy smile, bearing his two, very sharp, monster like fangs.

Genevieve stood, she backed away slowly. Weary of him, and of his power. He reached out for her, she pulled back into the dark corner. Avoiding and fearing his touch.

"I saw you in the bushes," he whispered, "No, I smelled you in the bushes, but, you have no need to fear me. I wouldn't harm you. Not you"

He pulled her to him, he squeezed her wrists. His nail dug in, causing her to bleed. He immediately knelt down, he licked her wounds. Rubbing his tongue gently across the bloody scratches. Almost lovingly, maybe as to make amends for having scratched her? No! He is a monster, incapable of feeling. She thought.

He stood, he leaned in to kiss her, but she refuted turning away.

"What on God's green earth are you?" her words came out stiff, her tone cold.

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