Just a little writing exercise I wrote many months ago and decided to put up. It was written half because I was bored, half because I admit I was disappointed in the wimp qualities of the vampires in Twilight. But I digress.


My heart stumbled over itself as my eyes met his; they were mysterious, beckoning me towards them with the eerie beauty of such eyes set in that pale, handsome face.

It was night in the city; that should have been my first clue. The only kind of company that prowled the grand city of Paris this late were prostitutes, murderers, and other such shady unmentionables. My place was not among the poor like them. I was a high aristocrat lady—and ladies do not patrol the streets without a proper escort like some common whore.

One of my maids had only just run to fetch warm bathwater and soap. While I waited, I sat next to the window; hands folded neatly and posture straight, even though there was no one in the room except me, looking out into said dirty streets, hoping for some form entertainment.

And that was when I saw him.

He looked up at me, a small, entrancing smile on his pale lips. No sane, healthy woman would have been able to resist; I was already seduced by his confident—almost dangerous—manner, visible even from here. His head twitched to the side as his lips curled even further, serving as the final beat of poison to my thoughts and free will. As if spellbound, my legs took me outside to see this beautiful man in the flesh, to make sure my mind did not imagine him.

He was still in the same position I had first seen him in, as if he had been waiting for me to come down from my window to greet him. He walked towards me in a smooth, dancer-like motion that almost made me jump him surprised when he stopped and bowed before me, just as one should do before a proper woman.

"Good evening, milady," he murmured softly, and I could hardly suppress a gasp as a shiver tore through my spine. His deep voice rumbled pleasantly in my ears like the soothing lullaby my mother had sung to me throughout my childhood.

"Good evening," I reply, proud that my voice did not tremble or stutter, "May I ask what a man like you is doing out so late at night in these treacherous streets?"

The man's eyes crinkled, stretching his lips out that extra millimeter. "I was walking home when I found myself looking up, and was instantly charmed by your beauty."

Gently, he took my bare hand in his, leaning over to place a tiny, lingering kiss on the smooth surface. His hands were cold, his lips barely a fraction warmer—from the cold, my mind rationalized; it was so very chilly that night. "I must admit I am not one to deny myself anything I wish for easily, and resigned myself to waiting outside your window in the hopes of catching another glimpse."

His head looked up, eye staring straight into mine. "I am glad I was not disappointed."

My heart and mind floundered for a response. I'm afraid I must have looked so silly to him, mouth opening and closing as I swooned as his close proximity and apparent adoration of me. "S-so am I," was my intelligent response, and he chuckled.

"It is gratifying to see there is a reciprocation to my feelings, milady," he murmured again, face more open now that he was sure he truly held my attention. He held out his hand—I had hardly noticed it gently let go of mine the first time. "Would you like to go for a walk?" A pleasant smile was still situated on his face, "I promise to protect you from any scandalous and murderous persons."

I would follow you into Hell if you asked, I thought, but only replied, "If you insist."

The pleasant smile widened. "I do."

His canines were perhaps a touch longer than usual, but my mind paid no more attention to it than it would a fly as he led me through the city.


Eventually we reached a fairly secluded spot in the park, talking as we strolled through the moonlit trees like lovers.

He was attentive to my every need, and seemed to say the one thing that would draw a chuckle out of me at that point in the conversation. We had known each other for less than an hour and I was already half in love with him; his voice, his manners… his body. It never even occurred to me that I did not know his name, nor had he enquired after mine.

We stopped next to a particularly willow-like tree, and he turned to face me.

"Milady," he spoke softly, intently staring in my eyes, "You are welcome to push me away if this is to sudden for one such as you." He leaned towards me, this time towards my face and not my hands.

"What… do you mean?" I said slowly, head muddled from the charms he frequently wove over me.

He did not answer until his lips were mere centimeters from mine, and then, in a low voice, he whispered, "I am going to kiss you."

He did not lie.

His lips—they were still strangely cold, even though we had been talking for quite awhile—were pressed them to mine in a simple kiss. Part of my mind blanked out in that one second, the other working frantically to process it. I closed my eyes and breathed in his scent, inhaling—

His lips shifted to my neck and bit down.

I think I screamed. I know I struggled, if only comprehending the vague feeling of his arms, clamping down around me like iron shackles to keep me from writhing away. My treacherous heart—treacherous organ that was seduced by him, treacherous organ that pumped the blood that fed him—beat frantically, powered by my fear.

Eventually I felt myself growing weak and unbalanced; the world spun in front of me as the too-beautiful man (he still held my heart, even through the fear and pain—I resented him for that) carefully detached his killing teeth from my marred neck, still bleeding as my heart continued to weakly pump out blood.

As the world grew dark before me, the vampire that captured me lips his lips clean of my blood and leaned forward until his lips lingered next to my ear.

"Thank you for tonight's meal, milady," he whispered, voice still sweet, and my heart thudded one last time at the sound of it.

I died.


The vampire watched with unsympathetic eyes as his newest victim breathed her last. Another pretty young woman—he had gorged on them the night before, but was unable to resist yet another. She was so innocent, so easy to seduce it would have made him cry, if he cared to.

Quickly, he placed the body in the park's lake, to hide the evidence and walked away from the scene of his feeding, whistling to no particular tune, the taste of his meal's blood lingering on his tongue.


Yes. That's it. I don't plan to continue this story--it's ended, it's done, it has been told in full (Meaning, it wouldn't feel right to write more).

If you so desire, please leave a review.