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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11. Chapter Nine

(1808)
 

His looks hadn't changed in all those years he had lived since being attacked. He was now a creature cursed to live in eternal darkness, to walk in the shadows alone. 

Something deep within Barnabas had changed. He was no longer himself, the mirror opposite in many respects. His thoughts had changed. Killing someone for their blood no longer mattered to him. Mortals were, to him, lower in the food chain after all. 

An Irish redhead accompanied him home that night. Long flowing red hair, dazzling green eyes that shined like precious jade. A woman Barnabas would have once found beautiful. But now, all he could see was the decay to come. For one day death would touch her, as it couldn't touch him. He hated her for being simple no more than another weak mortal, capable of being taken by death in an instant. Like that of a breeze to a flame, here one second and gone the next. pathetic mortals, the lot of them

He could smell the delicious river of blood that flowed in her veins, he could already taste the sweet nectar of that he could pull from her throat. He leaned in to kiss her, to gain her trust. 

"Why, Mr. Ashwood" she chuckled, "Ya not tryin to seduce me a'ready is ya?"

He mostly drank blood from women, there was no shortage of women to feed upon. Many fell under his allure. He was quite handsome, wealthy, and immensely quick witted. Besides that, being a vampire now, he held a certain captivating appeal over women. If they really wanted to they could refuse him, but no woman had ever refused him.

He kissed her neck softly, once, twice. And then he struck, biting into her warm flesh. The sweet metallic taste filled his senses. 

He drank from her neck longingly. A small trail of blood ran down his chin, he licked across his sharp fangs which glistened crimson red with blood. He stood straight and observed what he had done.

There she sat. Dead. Drained of her blood, an insurmountable look of terror and pain on her face. Her eyes looked listless, it could be clearly be seen that her soul had departed.

Barnabas, of course, felt nothing. He beheld her and all he could see was a nuisance, disposing of her body seemed a daunting task. One he didn't look forward to. He ripped her body from the couch, holding her in his arms he carried her from the room.

*~*~*~*

In the fifteen years, Barnabas had been a vampire, he had never run across another like him. Oh, he knew there had to be more, but he didn't seek them out. Alone in his darkness was how he had thrived all these years. Why should anything change now?

Immortality was something many men would gladly give their soul for, immortality was something Barnabas possessed. But he would gladly give it up to just have a soul.

His skin was ice cold to the touch, perhaps reflecting upon his heart. Much of his past had become a blur, he found himself often struggling to recall things from his past, before becoming the beast he was. He could clearly see the faces of each and every one of his victims, the were branded on his brain. Stuck in his mind for all of his existence.

He had become good at moving quietly from place to place. He had to move often as not to arouse too much suspicion. He hadn't really talked to anyone since he became what he was. Mortals didn't hold his attention enough to really indulge in a personal conversation with. He liked the social life, at night, of course, he would go to many parties. He liked the theater, and would often stay out until it was near sunrise and he no longer could.

Running was second nature. He had run the night he was bit, he would run for the rest of his life. Doomed to be heartless, to only feeling he had were anger and wrath. His mind was set in stone, his heart was no longer there.

"Barnabas, is that you?" a woman's voice interrupted his thoughts.

Her blonde hair was pulled back and curled. Soft hazel eyes beamed from under thick eyebrows. And at once he recognized her.

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