Calderon has waited until forever, with constant occurring thirst for blood, with a life in secrecy and away from every human's eyes. Even if it took over a millennium for the soul of his past and only lover to come back to life, he has stayed. He has endured the curse of living only by sucking on humans. He has kept on convincing himself that another lifetime would come for his pair, and when that moment manifests, they could be together again. He waited, and when he has finally come face to face with his lover incarnate in the identity of Macey Hermione Monreal, he does everything to keep her close for as long as he can. But will Macey recognize him? Will Macey see behind the monster that is Calderon? Will Macey accept his love, even with the risk of real danger upon being human, being the kind that serves as Calderon's source of livestock?
Chapter 1 Crimson Red
Thirst.
Thirst is all Calderon can feel while his eyes glimmer in the dark. Deep crimson red, bloody and spooky.
His fangs were sharp, his throat was dry, his pale hands cater a long set of fingernails that pierces through his pale skin, making a vent, but he couldn't care any less.
He gulped. And then, he waited for the right timing before he jumps at his dinner, a whole buffet he could enjoy.
When the girl he was eyeing has turned into the street's corner, he jumped down from a three-storey compound's roof. He fell with great balance and still good posture, his lightweight body landing like a feather on the wet ground.
Yet another gulp. Thirsty, he knows full well that only human blood could satiate him right now.
A few steps is all it took, and the random citizen vanishes into one dark alley at one strong pull of cold hands.
"Wha... who are you? Don't... don't hurt me, please?" The girl pleaded, shaking, shuddering in horror.
He could feel the radiating fear, a thing he has become so used to, a thing that satisfies him enough before he gets into his seventh heaven in one straight suck.
"Don't worry," he mumbled, smirking and licking his lips right after. The smell he was sniffing was inviting, the rush of the poor girl's blood due to nervousness and fear were skyrocketing his desire to just bury his fangs straight into her neck and unload the warm body. "It won't hurt. Just a bit."
"Sir? What are you-"
"Shut up."
"Aaah-" the girl tried to break free from a stronghold when he finally eases his fangs on the patch of skin under his victim's ear.
He took hold of the girl's hair, then grinned evilly until it reaches his ears.
"Didn't I tell you to shut up?"
One hard thug and a push on the wall, the girl's head bumped and bled.
He was in front of the girl in a speed of light, and he immediately went back to his business of sipping on a container from his favorite spot of the human flesh.
When he had enough - making sure that he wouldn't kill the poor woman, he took hold of the girl's forehead to take the recent memories and make his victim forget, and then he vanished from the site.
He felt a pang of guilt strike his conscience when the hunger finally died down. His eyes went back to its usual lifeless color, light brown, and his fangs dissipated.
This life of his has been going on for more than a millennium, and he's getting tired to its hang. Thirst during the night, long sleep when the sun starts to rise, then repeat.
If only he doesn't have any reason to stay alive and live the unwanted fate, he would have gotten out in the broad daylight, hundreds of years ago, to end this ongoing and inevitable misery.
When the Vampire purge happened before the second World War sparked between allied countries, he was the only one to survive and live among all his kind.
He didn't know if it was a great feat to be proud of, or if it was actually a curse.
Living in secret requires enough self-control, sanity, and carefulness. And he was thankful to have an ability to manipulate human mind and make them forget, So, although the most he can do with peasants were limited, it was an actual blessing for someone who is living in secret, under the shadows, inside a closet.
In his thousand years of living in a world with continuous technological advancements and unknown, wide possibilities, he didn't find it hard to develop a formula to keep himself safe from slight burns from the sun - although the improvements and perfection he is thriving for were still in progress, incomplete.
He still couldn't walk around in the broad daylight without any protective gears to cover his whole body. He was always like a strange mummy, but wrapped in thick black leather instead of bandage rolls.
He was glad to at least be able to roam around freely. Soon, he hopes that the laboratory tests go well, so he could finally get rid of hindering clothes.
He walked inside his secluded suite, without any windows and openings aside from a private elevator that only he, could use.
It was his usual and empty space, sorrowful and agonizing, and he was used to it. Although he always tells himself that, no, he should stop the madness in this lifetime and just let it go, he couldn't quite refrain himself from yearning for a precise presence of only one person he always has in mind,
He clasped his chest, feeling his frozen heart tighten. If it was possible for a vampire's blood to rush, and for the tight muscle to pump red in his veins, he was sure that he will nearly be convulsing in unexplainable pain, in an inevitable heartache.
And then, he dozed off for the whole day.
Chapter 1 Crimson Red
18/10/2021