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In all his centuries, Declan had never tired of the scent of his two most favorite things. The first, of course, was blood. The life force of humans teeming in the air, knowing that it would soon be on his tongue, restoring him, rushing through his otherwise dried veins.
Humans were always funny little things when facing a vampire. Some became belligerent and paranoid, while others became giving and docile. It was a flip of the coin, one which Declan would always risk in pursuit of a book.
It was an area often ignored, given that the resale of books did not seem too popular anymore, with so many using the electronic devices to read. It meant he was often alone, which suited him fine. He preferred the companionship of books above all others. A good trait for a vampire.
What could be better company for an immortal than the written word of the past? They were relics of a long-forgotten time, some from even before his own days of walking the earth.
He liked that he could easily read any text on a handheld device, but the feeling of a book in his hands was better than the feeling of anything else.
And he had to see if the freckles trailing across her throat were also on the inside of her thighs.
She was thoroughly wrapped up in whatever book she held, 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.
Humans were, for lack of better uses, only there for food or books.
He was entrapped, lured in by her expressive eyes, sultry lips, and enchanting bookish aura, and he was willing to walk directly into it, if only to learn a little more.
Her spirit, her very essence... her conversation and smile alone could sustain him another thousand years at the very least.
“I’m an archivist, not a librarian. Collecting books is a very different passion from actually reading them.” “Ahh, too true,”
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.
He had to know the taste of her blood on his tongue as she squirmed under him, clenching around his fingers, riding the high of both the venom in his fangs and the pleasure of his touch.
He was not one for eating human food with any regularity, having no requirement for such sustenance in eons, but he enjoyed the occasional delicacy in his travels. Eating for pleasure and to enjoy something new, or recall a memory that could only be brought to him via taste.
He wanted to feed her, to satisfy her, to delight her. He was centuries old with all the wealth in the world at his disposal, should he reach for it, and the ability to give her anything she desired.
Was it getting hot? Why was she flustered? Was he next going to ask how many bookshelves she had, and how full they were? 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. And the man in front of her loved books as much as she did.
He wanted her as his companion. Wanted her by his side for all the days ahead. Wanted her as she was, right in this moment, preserved for all time.
could build and expand his shelves, could assist her in acquiring new pieces of art and finery, and he could dress her with the trunks abandoned in his various rooms, waiting to be preserved or worn.
He had longed for companionship, once or twice, and often found it with other supernatural for a short time, but he always returned to his solitude. No one could ever understand his obsession, as they described it, with his books and his library.
corrupt with blood lust thought of him? He had his books. His collections. His libraries. And now he had someone he could share it with. If she would say the word, he would give her everything.
Yes, the library would do the heavy lifting, but he would charm her. Seduce her. Win her over to his side.
“Whatever number, whatever size... I fear you cannot even begin to comprehend the number of books I have within my collection.”
She felt like freaking Belle from Beauty and the Beast, and the child in her, the one who knew every word to every song from the animated film, leapt for joy. The woman in her was pressing her thighs together, trying to remind herself that showing off his library was not a form of foreplay...
“A bookshelf can take you anywhere. A library can take you everywhere.”
He did not fear death. Did not fear pain. Did not fear the unknown. And yet, this woman with wonder in her eyes and pages of books written into her skin, gave him fear. Made him panic. Made him... concerned.
There was hope in their connection. And that made him afraid. Because for the first time in a long time, loneliness was pressing at his very soul.
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.
Immortality with books sounded amazing, but not having good sex or someone to share a book with? That would be lonely.
“Never before have I craved a creature as much as I crave you,”
I want you to desire this, me, all of us as you do now. Preserved in this moment.”
“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.”
Hundreds of years alone, and he had barely noticed the loneliness, but the thought of existing in a world without her in it, without her presence in his library and in his bed, without her love of literature, and collections, and books, without her laughter and her smile... He would take his final death without second thought.
“A vampire does not fuck like a man. We are insatiable, can last for years, and with the sharing of blood, I could keep you like this for days. Your body will be forced to shape around me, to take me. You will cry out for mercy, and then beg for more. Your body will only know my touch when I am finished, but I shall never truly be finished with you. I will spend the rest of eternity between your thighs and in your bed. Do you understand?”
He had waited hours to be inside of her, and she wanted to be fucked by a vampire. He would fuck her like a vampire.
“You have given your life to me, have shed the bondage of time and fragility, becoming like me, a vampire. You have an eternity now. I think what we share, our bond, goes a bit beyond the human concepts of marriage. After all, death will not be the thing to part us.”
