Page 79 of Lucy Undying (Dracula #1)

79

Salt Lake City, January 10, 2025

Dracula

Nothing about this feeding thrills him. It’s merely the dull necessity of logistics. Preparing himself to have the patience necessary to claim you. He’s doing this for you.

He sneers in disgust as a woman trembles under his fingers, bending her neck in invitation. There’s no satisfaction in puncturing her fragile skin. When she faints in his arms, he drops her to the floor like a discarded tissue.

It served its purpose. He’s not ravenous anymore. He can think clearly, make his plans for you. But maybe he should finish this woman, kill her rather than—

There’s someone outside the door. This haze-choked city has become a cage. It’s crawling with vampires; he finds them tedious and loathsome, like children. These new ones can’t truly understand who or what he is. They assume he’s the same thing they are. They’re wrong. No one is the same as him.

The vampire outside, though—he catches the scent and knows it’s her. She’s not a child, she’s a demon. Worse than a demon; a demon at least he would understand, he would relate to. She’s like God. Distant, all-seeing, all-controlling, a force so powerful even Dracula cowers before the cross. God controlled him in life and holds sway over him still in death. Obedience and blessings and holy terror.

He cannot abide the demon vampire woman, hates the very thought of her existence. She’s always watching him, inserting herself into his schemes, trying to control him. He’s cleverer than she is, though. More vicious, more worthy. He’ll make sure she doesn’t notice what he’s doing, and he’ll do it right under her acolytes’ noses.

There’s a peaceful rapture that descends, one he’s missed for so long. He can play at being God, too. He’ll take you from them, and they won’t know until it’s too late.

The window provides a suitable exit. Theatrics have never been beneath him, and at last he feels a prick of excitement. This victim is a means to an end, and you, his end, are waiting.

As he slips free, there’s no line between beast and man. He shifts without a thought, swooping into the darkness and fleeing the scene.

Bat, then wolf. Slinking low, wrapped in the night, because it loves him as he loves it. He pads toward your scent, confident and sure-footed. You’re waiting for him somewhere out there in the darkness, whether you know it or not. And now that he’s sated, he has enough control—just barely enough, though, keeping the edge of hunger and violence that will thrill you as it does him.

He’s ready to start your seduction. You aren’t ready, you can never be ready, and that’s exactly how he likes it.