The Vampire in the Bookstore

by Elle M. Drew

She was thoroughly wrapped up in whatever book she was holding, and he found that, for the first time in a very long time, he was more interested in the person holding the book than the book itself.

She was so wholly focused on the book before her... it was as though looking in a mirror. A much more attractive mirror, of course, but... He longed to know her. To know her name. To know her inside and out.

It was working. Whatever she was doing to him, whatever spell she was weaving over him, it was working. He was entrapped, lured in by her expressive eyes and sultry lips and enchanting bookish aura, and he... he was willing to walk directly into it, if only to learn a little more.

“As I said before, Rosamund, you could never block my path, for while I did originally plan to look for a book or two, I find that I have instead been led to you, and I find you to be far more interesting than any book this store contains.”

“I’m Declan, and I have a love for older books and manuscripts. I enjoy finding old and worn treasures which haven’t been touched in years and restoring them to life. And, I happen to enjoy reading the pages within, although I will admit I have not read every book within my collection, because, as you mentioned, collecting books and reading books are two separate hobbies. And, while I will admit that I first entered this shop in search of treasures from a recent estate sale, I find the company in front of me much more interesting than anything on these shelves.”

He needed to know if the ink and parchment had seeped into her blood, her love of books something he could taste.

It was very human to invite a woman for a meal. Very natural. She would suspect nothing, of course. He would ask about her work, about her current projects, her preferred era of study, if she studied history or information science before becoming an archivist, why she preferred archival work over discovery, and then... Then, he would invite her to his home, to peruse his own library, and enjoy a dessert... the dessert being her, of course. He could practically taste her already...

“Time is only fleeting if you feel as though you have been wasting it,” she answered softly. “And I highly doubt an evening with you could ever be considered such.” Oh, such a sweet creature... if only she knew.

He wanted to kiss her, to devour every sensible and analytical thought she had ever assembled, so that all she knew, all she could process, was him.

Rosamund shook her head at him as she wrinkled her brow, a smile curling over her lips all the while. “The pleasure of your company will make up for the lack of conversation, and besides, we cannot talk while we eat.” “And yet, I would prefer the sound of your voice to any meal they could place before me.”

“You, Rosamund, are a wonder,” he complimented once more, bringing a blush back to her cheeks. Dammit and damn him, she was not a woman to blush, and yet he was forcing her to do so every few minutes. She felt like a schoolgirl with each one, which was absurd because she was a grown-ass woman in her thirties who knew what a fucking amazing person she was, and she was... not the sort of woman who blushed over compliments.

Was she turned on by this? Wait, of course, she was. She was a bookworm. A book hoarder. A book dragon. A library troll. She was a bibliophile.

It took all of her willpower to not lunge across the table and demand that he speak. “Would you like to see my books?”

Rosamund blinked as the words rolled over her, trying to understand what she had just heard. Would she like to see... his... his books? Was this a serious question? Was he for real right now? “Your... books?” she repeated, trying to be certain she had understood him properly.

But then... then, he saw the way the man’s gaze had lingered, how he had leered at Rosamund. And fuck, if that hadn’t made Declan ready to surge up from the table and snap the man’s neck immediately. Eyeing her like she was some sort of possession that he would take by force, like he would rip apart her blouse and force her attention onto him. Declan had seen men like him over the centuries, men who took without asking, who considered others to be something they deserved without consent, and he... He treated them now as a vampire much as he had in life... with a force that only a forceful man would recognize. By taking, demanding, and spilling their blood.

Rosamund, a vampire. His companion. His queen.

The woman in her was pressing her thighs together, trying to remind herself that showing off his library was not a form of foreplay... ... Okay, no, there was no point in lying to herself. This was definitely foreplay.

“There are duplicates,” he assured her, not that it was of any real assurance. “Particularly when new editions are released. I also have a penchant for a variety of covers. In fact, there are at least three dedicated shelves simply to the work of Tolkien. As you said before, there is a hobby for collecting books.” A high pitched giggle escaped Rosamund as she turned again, not even knowing where to look. This was... she was... Oh, for the love of God.

“That can be arranged,” Declan murmured, a tease she had to assume, but she wouldn’t argue with it. “A book can take you somewhere,” she quoted as she tried to pick a place to start. Where could she even start? Was there a proper place? Should she ask him for a tour of the shelves? What was his organization strategy? Did he follow any pattern?

“A bookshelf can take you anywhere. A library can take you everywhere.”

A fear he could not consider at the moment. He wanted to view his prize. Wanted her to view his gift to her. A human... a woman... another being. He was sharing this with her, his most secret and precious treasure. Years of gathering and collecting, all sitting in one space... And here she was, a being who also saw value in it. A person he could share with. A woman he could... Love.

If such a thing were even possible for a vampire.

“A book can take you somewhere,” Rosamund said suddenly, her head tilted to the side. “A bookshelf can take you anywhere. A library can take you everywhere.”

The little minx. First she leaves him confuddled, and then she tells him to sit and think while she explores his space? This was a woman worth keeping. A real prize. A researcher. A bibliophile. A— She was a wonder. But, he had to know more.

Was she waiting for him to respond? Or was she waiting for him to do something? Because if they stood there much longer, with the scent of her sex flooding his nose and the pounding of her heart thrumming in his ears... he was going to sink his teeth into her throat while working his fingers into her cunt. In that order.

Rosamund stepped forward, not looking away as she closed the distance. He didn’t move away, but he did straighten up, no longer leaned in towards her. His eyes widened, as though surprised, and she smirked, feeling like the cat about to catch the mouse. Not that this man was a mouse. If anything... he was more the unassuming predator. She would love to be his prey.

Her lips quirked again, the only sign that she now had her entry point. There it was. Perfect. But for the love of everything holy, she desperately wanted to kiss him.

Would you stay forever?” “The only way I can stay forever is if you make me immortal, like you.”

Was that it, then? Was this the true reason she had sought him out? A desire for immortality? Nothing more? If that were the case... he would have changed her regardless, if for no other reason than amusement, but this woman... she was... He focused on her eyes, studied her gaze, and lost himself in her depths. She was breathtaking. Perfection. She possessed the kind of beauty men had fought wars over. Had she been alive a few hundred years earlier, every renaissance painter in every city would have longed to have her sit for them. He would have been the envy of every party and celebration he ever attended, with such a shining jewel on his arm. She was... magnificent. And she was smiling up at him with far more than just hope in her eyes.

“You see, I am far beyond immortality, my dear,” he growled around his teeth. His voice was deeper like this, rougher. “I am the monster in dark shadows who sinks his teeth into the innocent, draining them of their life and their soul. I am one with the night, unable to ever again bathe myself in the light of day. I feel no warmth, require no food, and yes, I have immortality, but the cost...”

Lifting her wrist to his mouth, he fought the urge to bite her, and instead licked her flesh, his tongue dragging along her pulse. He could nearly taste it, could feel it pulsing against his touch, and he let himself lick again, this time adding the drag of his fangs. He didn’t pierce her, not yet, but he wanted to, craved to.

“He kept looking at you with a lust and desire in his eyes, and I knew immediately his intentions were far

from pure. The sort of man who wanted only power over a woman. I didn’t even try to stop myself from draining him dry, and I did not even need to eat. My lust for blood, and for the power it gives me, was too much for me to fight. Not when he dared to look at you like that. Not when you were sitting across from me like a deity I longed to worship. It took control of me, forcing me to take his life.”

“I want that,” she repeated again. Her eyes were wide, and he could feel how tense she was, but she wasn’t pulling away, and there was no fear. No, all he saw in her eyes was wonder, and desire. She still desired him. Even after his threats. Even with the danger.

Magnificent, divine creature. And she was soon going to be all his.

“As a vampire, are your senses better?” she questioned, wanting to know if it was possible. “Because the way you keep breathing me in...” “Good girl, yes, I can hear better, I can taste better, I can see better, I can move better, and yes, I can smell how soaked your underwear is. Although, I shouldn’t call you a good girl, given how bratty you’ve been running away from me.”

“Do you know how ethereal you are, just like this?” he questioned as his gaze lifted to meet her own. “Your beauty is beyond any comparison, but if I was forced to place you into any box, I would call you rubenesque. The softness of you, the curves of your body, of your breasts, of your backside, and lower. Every part of you is voluptuous, even your perfect lips. You are truly a work of art.”

“My attraction is in question?” Declan interrupted as he leaned in. He took in another deep breath of her throat, and then moved upwards, the side of his face brushing against hers. She shuddered at the almost nuzzling gesture, and felt his lips press against the corner of her ear, not a kiss, but simply present. “My attraction to you is limitless. I crave you intellectually, yes, but also carnally. I would know your body, every soft dip, every sound you make, every desire you hold, ever...”

“I do.” He didn’t have to say it. Not with the way he was responding to her. Not with the way he was surely losing a battle with himself. “If you’re going to turn me, if you’re going to drink from me, and me from you, then have me. Have... sex with me. Fuck, that feels so lacking a word, but I want the intimacy too, I want the pleasure with the pain, I want you, I want your teeth in me while I ride you and—” Declan’s growl cut her off from continuing, and then he was surging forward, his mouth at her throat. She could feel his teeth scraping, and she arched up against him again, unable to do anything more to do the distance.

“Do you do that often?” she asked again, her words still in a rush. Ahh, she was struggling with her racing heart, then. “Share blood, I mean?” “Only in the most intimate of settings, and with those you trust. You’re giving them a piece of yourself, of your very life, when you share blood.” “Will you still share blood with me, after I’m turned?” She sounded almost... worried. Declan chuckled as he nodded his head. “You? Always. We will always share blood. Everything that is mine will soon be yours. And you... you will be mine, in all ways, for all eternity.”

“And when I catch you for the last time, I’m going to devour every last drop of you.” Rosamund shivered where she stood, and he looked lower, to where her skirt covered her sex from his view... but not her scent. “I do not mean your blood, Rosamund. I mean I will have you sit upon a throne and allow me to devour every last drop of your sex. You’ve been calling to me all evening, driving me insane. I will taste you.”

“Oh, yes. My jaw will be quite the throne for you. I long to feel your thighs on either side of my head, gripping me. You will always be welcome to sit on it.”

“You forget, my dear, that I am dead. I don’t breathe. You can sit on my face for hours, without pause, cumming on my tongue over and over again until you cannot move. And even then, I’ll still devour you.”

He was right. Any painter would kill to have her naked body on display for his artwork. “Perfection,” he murmured, and shifted down to one knee, so he could nuzzle at her stomach. She sucked in, in response, and he nipped at her belly, with human teeth and not fangs, then moved lower. So close. He was so close to what he craved most. “I will return to your ample bosom shortly, but first... I’m starving.”

Rosamund shrieked as she was lifted out of the chair, only to then half tumble forward as her knees hit the floor on either side of Declan’s head. His eyes were black, but she couldn’t see his mouth to study his eyes. Oh no, his mouth was hidden somewhere underneath her stomach, and he was now pulling her higher, shifting her to sit on his face. Oh, for the love of—he was serious about her sitting on his face!

Oh he was definitely serious. He cant die so you're in for a ride lol

If he was not already enamored, he would have been entirely besotted with her after what he had just experienced. She was wild, untamed, and nearly feverish as he brought her to peak over and over again. And every time he thought she would beg for him to stop, beg for a break... she begged for more.

And he would love to give her more, but he needed to fuck her, and bleed her, and feed her, and then... And then, turn her. Preserve her. Protect her. All so that he never had to lose her.

It was not until he had such a true treasure that he knew what it was to live without, and he refused to return to such an existence. He growled at the very thought, unwilling to even consider it. No, she was his, and he would never give her up. She was his to do with as he pleased, to pleasure, to worship, to share blood with. He was going to fuck her, as she had asked in the rough way vampires did, without any fear of breaking their toys, sustaining them with their blood. It was not something he often took part in, and had not done so for a few centuries, but with Rosamund... Anything. Everything. The entire world. Forever. All she had to do was ask...

There was no longer a sense of time, no longer a sense of anything beyond the pleasure of her body, of her cries. When she fell forward, his hands mapped her form, running along her sides, up her back, down her arms. He touched and painted her, painted her body with his fingertips, then fucked her again, over and over and over. And when he thought she could take no more... He flipped her back over, onto her back, and fucked her more, only now...

“One more. You’re going to give me one more,” he growled around his fangs. It was hard to think, to speak, beyond wanting more of her pleasure. “Then sleep.”