Four Corners (tent. Titled)
Note: Eilis's Name pronounced Ay-Lish (Irish)
Prologue
Seven Months Previously…
"If Eilis ever found out about this, she'd dismember me." He loved her too much, he couldn't bear her knowing. And hopefully it could stay a secret.
Moria was lying in her bed, only wearing her lacy black lingerie (that was her idea, not his).
It was too bad she thought he liked her.
Once Aiden had knocked her unconscious mentally, he laid her out on the bed; her long, dark brown hair sprawled out on the pillow. He leaned on the top of her sleeping body, tucked his mouth under her chin to her neck, and bit her—hard.
The sweet flow of blood was like ecstasy, pure bliss. It was thick and deep, but also dark and dangerous. He could have emptied her beautiful body of the prize it contained—maybe even more—but he wasn't a killer…anymore. He wished he could be like the tiny five percent of vampires who fed on animals, or received shipments of blood from human donors, but like the other ninety-five percent, he was addicted to his teeth sinking through a girl's soft flesh, puncturing an artery, and draining it of the life it contained. It was instinctive. It was at least better than what he used to do, and what the majorities of vampires do now—kill for their food. It was nature, predator eats prey. They were the predators, and the humans were the prey. But he didn't feel like killing anymore. He just couldn't. He had killed so much. Let's just say that once a vampire has killed—especially if they were starving like he was—it has to continue. Until very breathing body is bloodless and cold.
And Aiden had killed. He still wanted to; the urge beat in him heart like a kick drum. But he couldn't, he thought of Eilis's face…he couldn't allow Eilis to know he thought like that.
His mouth parted with Moria's skin, blood trickling down his mouth. He lapped it up with his tongue, hungry for any extra drop. He licked her neck clean, sealing her bite wound until no trace of his teeth remained. He slipped his razor blade out of his jean pocket, and slit her arm, draining her blood into my reusable water bottle, and pulled the sleeve back over it. He traced the slit with my tongue, sealing it, and lapped up any excess blood.
He checked the sheets for excess blood, and to his relief (and dismay), it was clean.
Aiden pulled his white tee shirt over his head, slipped on his Oxfords, and left Moria's empty house for the night.