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Authors: April Ezell Wilson

The Last Vampyre Prophecy

BOOK: The Last Vampyre Prophecy
2.75Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub






© 2013, AEW Self publishing ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.  Wilson, Ezell April.














































If she drums her nails against that bloody contraption once more I may follow her to her car and drain every ounce of blood from her maladroit body.

Perhaps I’ll do it anyway
, my hunger is incipient after three days of restraint.

The sof
t ding of the elevator permeates my ear. To everyone else it is muted but to me it pierces the hypersensitive drum in my head.

Just three more floors and I can climb out of this metal tube. Modern technology is quite unnecessary for me but
I have to keep up the façade.

The over
-processed blonde perched against the far wall has been undressing me with her eyes for the last five floors. If she only knew what really lay beneath these tailored threads.

I gi
ve her a slight smile and stare into those muddled brown eyes covered with hideous blue contacts. She most certainly was not getting the desired effect with those fucking things.

I c
an see the thoughts she has about catching me in the garage and throwing me into my expensive car and hiking her skirt around her thighs then riding me against the supple leather.

She i
s imagining her legs curling around my thighs and sinking down onto my cock slowly then rocking hard until her insides explode and she comes all around my thick length.

I suppress a sigh because that i
s one of the most unimaginative scenes I’ve read lately. She is just like her hair—over worked.

I br
eak eye contact because frankly I can’t take another second of her less than stellar erotica and couple that with the fact that sex is nothing I’m remotely interested in. I would have her drained dry, pulling that sweet red wine right out of her femoral artery before her heart skipped a beat.

I feel
the cool shift in atmosphere and know we have descended to the garage level. Finally the doors open and I slip through sliding my hand into my trouser pocket gripping my key.

I feel
her breath drift through the stagnant basement air and smell the remnants of her fried Chinese takeout. It is abhorrent.

I slow
my stride and just as she is about ten paces back I drop my key and bend down.

Right on cue she clicks
her knockoff pumps in a beeline toward me.

She clears
her throat. “Excuse me, sir?” Her voice is nasally and I catch the whistle that emanates through the scarred flesh in her throat from smoking.

Show time.

I turn and soften my eyes giving her a gentle smile.

She nearly buckl
es in her knees and I see the tremor that radiates from her thighs down to her ankle.

is already wet and ready. Something I am all too familiar with. All women exude the same carnal reaction when they encounter me.

When the sexual hormones erupt
the chemical and physical change in their body causes the heart to pump faster and harder and pushes the blood down to that dull ache between their thighs.

It’s our nature’s way of priming our prey.

I hear her breath hitch as she catches my scent. Her nipples harden under her sweater and I watch the ripple of hairs stand up on her arms. Her heart is pumping hard and wet against her rib cage.

I peer
back into her eyes and watch the scenario grow more erotic with each second she drinks me in.

Her breathing
is erratic and her thighs are rubbing together purposefully trying to find relief or friction.

I st
and and invite her in with my gaze.

Her pupils
dilate. “I-I was wondering if you could give me a ride to the next level, I think I got off on the wrong floor?” She breathes.

I smile and gi
ve her a glimpse of the weapon that will, in a matter of seconds, be her crux.

“Sure, I’m parked just there,
” I gesture to the left, “by the entrance.” My voice musically resonates the syllables and as they reach her ears she is fully under my hex.

We walk the few feet to my car and I hold her door open as she slips
into the sleek leather seat.

I fold
into my seat and she is already leaning into me with her legs spread several inches at the knee.

I turn
my full gaze on her. “I think I’ve garnered the fact that your vehicle isn’t really on another level. I do believe you have tried to beguile me and in exchange have your way with me.” I can’t keep the amusement out of my delivery.

She bats
her mascara-coated eyelashes and licks her over polished lips. “I think we can offer each other a real good time.” She murmurs.

Her vernacular
is appalling and her readiness to give herself over so easily makes my irritation turn to rage.

I reach
over and spread her legs open forcefully. She gasps but I can smell her arousal. I pull one leg across the center console and spot the blue throbbing line inside her thigh.

stretches her arm out and runs her fingers through my bristled hair. The anger of her mediocrity consumes my thoughts and I grab her wrist forcing it against her throat holding her back on the seat.

Her eyes turn
from lust to fear in seconds and I smile. “I think our versions of release differ greatly in this scenario.”

Just as realization flashes in her eyes I stri
ke, sinking my teeth through the thin skin of her thigh and puncturing the delicate vein that is thrumming heavily.

The warm stream calms my senses and I turn
myself over to the pleasure peak that is coursing through my body.

I taste
the cheap Bordeaux and mixture of narcotics coursing through her blood. Her liver is processing at a slower rate and the toxins are filtering through her system. Given the state of decay already I have just given her a more humane form of death.

I release her arm and it fa
lls limply against the armrest. Her eyes are staring blankly into the roof. I pull my handkerchief from my breast pocket and wipe my mouth.

I close
my eyes and open my senses searching for activity. The closest person is two flights up.

I open my door and walk
to her side pulling her onto the ground. Her body slaps against the cold concrete. I lean down and place my hand in the center of her heart and build the pressure from within.

Seconds later her chest begins to smolder
and the fission flares through her limbs until the heat turns the tissue to molten ashes.

Her clothes
are scorched in places and lay limply on the ground as the remaining ashes whirl across the gray surface.

I pick up the remnants and walk
to the trash receptacle by the elevator and shove them through the metal flap.

The elevator whirls down the shaft and I feel
the tension build in the cables as it comes to a halt against the concrete.

The people begi
n to file out just as I shut the door. I slip the electronic key into the ignition and the engine purrs to life. I have to admit that as superfluous human possessions goes; I am fond of this car. The salesman had really played up the modern conveniences of the Maybach but it was the V-12 engine that spoke to my sated male persona.

I purr
alongside the rows of cars and inch through the mechanical arm as the computer scans my barcode.

other modern convenience that is tolerable—satellite radio.

I ho
ne in on the early world classical channel and feel a sense of nostalgia as the familiar remake of a favorite piece from Lodovico Giustini begins to fill the cabin.

The particular piece i
s referencing a beautiful maiden seduced by a dark prince and taken by his latten magic.

A smile curves on
my lips remembering the exact scene that gave him the inspiration to write the song.

She was his fifteen-year-old lover and to this day, more than three hundred years later; I remember the sweet taste of her virgin blood.

Not replete from the unexpected feeding my teeth begin to ache and the vibration files through my body. I need to find a source.

Manhattan provides
more than enough prey and opportunity—one of the main reasons I’ve stayed for the last seventy years.

pull up to the valet stand and slip out of the luxury confines as the attendant eagerly places the ticket in my hand.

I sense his excitement. He is calculating the time he has
to take a joy ride around the lower Eat Side.

I smirk
. “I’m aware of the mileage.”

His face fa
lls then pales. “Y-Yes, sir. Of-of course, sir.” He stumbles.

The cold wind sweeps
my hair against my forehead. To me it is a warm caress but the temperature gauge in my car has alerted me of the temperature—27°.

been more than eighteen hundred years since I’ve felt the sensation of cold.

The line for the club stretches at least a block. Girls a
re scantily dressed with overly painted faces and revealing clothing. Men are drinking in the pheromones exuding from the anticipation of the charging libidos.

I di
p my head to the doorman as he nervously smiles and opens the velvet rope for me to cascade through the throng.

The darkness of the club i
s welcomed. The vibration of the music hums against my feet as I stride through the masses and end at my table in the corner of the dance floor—the ultimate vantage point with just enough privacy to stalk my prey.

Jessica stumbles against the table as she tries
her best attempt at aloofness. She is twenty-eight, in debt and hopeless. Her five-year-old spawn is at home while she tries to make enough to cover the electricity bill.

I sigh
. Empathy is most certainly not my strongest suite but she normally caters to my whims and turns a blind eye at certain indiscretions.

I smile
. “Hello Jessica.”

She near
ly drops her tray. “Hi Mr. Garai. Your usual, sir?” She sputters.

I wink and grin
at her. “You are inimitable, Jessica. Yes, thank you.”

e stutters a response and clumsily drifts into the crowd toward the bar.

I turn
my focus back on the horde of bodies pulsing to the gyration of the music. I fan out several copious female admirers. Generations of experience render me the ability to filter the mundane licentious strops lingering in the atmosphere.

y every sense in my body tenses and I become hyper aware of a familiar presence.

flooding memories of Nanu rush my body—the rose of her cheeks and the milk tone of her skin stir deep within me.

She was the love I lost—t
he eternal love of a soul mate.

My head whips
in the direction of the delectable scent. A mound of black luscious hair fanned across the slight build of a small figure huddles against the pillar of the bar.

Her head is downcast as her body takes
repeated blows from the crowd around her causing her to bow against the wall and cower.

A violent emotion erupts
from my core causing me to jerk upright and stalk toward her prone form.

Suddenly anyone in my way is collateral damage. As I close in her sweet smell is more than intoxicating, it i
s feral.

She seems
to sense my presence and turns her eyes toward my approach. When we lock gazes I feel every cell in my body hum. A familiar pull gnaws at my core. It is an alien feeling—something I haven’t experienced in over eighteen hundred years.

Her bright green eye
s stop me dead in my tracks. Every muscle I have locks and my jaw is sealed shut.

Those big emerald depths pull me in and I feel
the innocence pouring from her soul.

She i
s perfect.

For the f
irst time in my existence I feel inadequate and undeserving. Suddenly the overwhelming emotion permeating my being is possession and protection.

She br
eaks my gaze and stares down at her meager dressings. The urge to scoop her up in my arms and provide security and happiness is disconcerting.

I realize
my façade is waning and my primal instincts are baring themselves. My predatory stance is alarming and a breadth of people are fanning away from me. I consciously level my breathing and feel the tension begin to subside.

Slowly the crowd dissipates
around me and I have a brief moment of clarity.

What the fuck
am I doing?

BOOK: The Last Vampyre Prophecy
2.75Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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