Hey everyone!
I've been watching Fairy Tail recently and OH MY GOD it is amazing. I think I may even like it more than Naruto, although Madara will always be my favorite. Anyways, this is a MidnightXLucy story - a oneshot with a cliff-hanger as of now, but if I get enough people liking it, I will gladly make it a chapter story. I have never written for Fairy Tail before and as such, am actually kind of nervous posting this. I think the grammar/spelling is as good as ever, but I'm really not sure if my characterizations are at all accurate.
Anyways, please read and enjoy! This is M-rated, I suppose, but doesn't really earn that rating in this particular part. If I decide to keep it as a one-shot, it will go down to T, but if I continue the story, it WILL BE RATED M. Lemons will be found on my blog...although they'll probably be more non-con than anything.
This can be considered a Darkfic, I think. So read on with caution!
He'd never liked the big cities after darkness had fallen, even though food made itself so easy to prey upon. Despite being a creature of the night and thusly named after the witching hour by his sire upon being turned, he much preferred the solitude and peacefulness of a quiet moonlit evening without the artificial lights and bustling men and women out to indulge in activities not meant for the daylight hours. Their debauchery disgusted him and like good little humans, they should be asleep in their homes, tucked away safely in their beds and out of danger from those like him. It wasn't borne of concern for their wellbeing, of course—he simply found no pleasure in their indulgent attitudes. At the same time, they made his survival so much easier.
They had no idea how truly dangerous the night hours were for them; then again, most of them remained unaware of the terror that those like him could bring upon the world. They were ignorant, although it was probably for the best, for if they knew what horrors could await them because of their actions they would surely make hunting a much more difficult endeavor.
It was a shame his sire had sent him to one such city; even if it was meant to be a vacation of sorts as a reward for his many recent successes, he would have preferred to be in the wilderness where the moon shone brightly and the animals who thrived in the forest would avoid him simply due to the fear his kind brought to all living things.
Then again, the city of Magnolia was ripe with the blood of nobles and the wealthy. While the homeless and the poor were easier prey, their blood was often weak and dirty—not anywhere near pleasing to his palate. It was for this reason he relished the more thrilling hunt of the privileged, those who had much to live for and were full of the desire to survive. Their fear made the result of his chase taste so much sweeter; his sire probably thought that sending him to such a place would be a treat, indeed.
And Midnight supposed it was, in that regard.
Unfortunately, however, he refused to dress and act as though he was of nobility in order to gain access to the throngs of the wealthy going out to their posh restaurants and VIP clubs reserved for the elite. Upon turning, his eyes and lips had darkened irreversibly, giving him the distinct appearance of a trashy goth who dressed in all black and chains. His hair had always been of two tones; black on top and white underneath, an appearance most of those who dyed their hair vibrant, unnatural colors for attention would have killed to have naturally. With his pierced ears and deathly pale skin, it was nigh impossible to pass as a noble. He wouldn't have wanted to look like one anyways, but it made a good dinner somewhat more difficult to come by. He often settled for vampire-wannabes who flocked to him like bees to honey when he went to the dark nightclubs in more obscure parts of the cities he visited.
Not the best when it came to blood quality, but sufficient when he wasn't up for a more intensive hunt.
It was at one of these places—a vampire-worshiping club called Elysium—that he had decided to find his prey for the night.
It hadn't been difficult to procure attire fitting for the occasion. With a sleeveless vest and form-fitting pants, all black leather, coupled with his usual black combat boots, Midnight found that getting into the club without an ID or cash had been simple. He was definitely old enough to be admitted—perhaps a few hundred years over the age minimum, although not looking a day older than twenty-three—and money had never been much of a concern to him when all he needed to go was cast a simple glamour upon the bouncer to make him think that he'd already been paid for.
Elysium was dimly lit, like most nightclubs, but he could see just fine with his vampiric gifts. Several centuries ago, the thick, tempting smell of blood from so many humans and the thrumming of loud music would have been overwhelming, but with time he had become accustomed to his heightened senses and now he could blend in seamlessly without succumbing to blood lust. The place was packed, even for a Saturday night, and the vampire decided that this would probably be the easiest hunting ground he would find in all of Magnolia.
The club had two bars on opposite sides of its space; one by the stage where an electronica band was setting up for their performance and another near the entrance to the patio where patrons could smoke and get away from the stagnant, humid air inside the bar. Strobe lights of all colors flashed throughout the building, but the main source of light was from the imitation of candles. The floors and walls alike were black, although there was blood red trim lining the ceilings.
He had taken a seat at the bar near the patio, simply observing the gaudily-dressed patrons with mild interest, when he smelled it.
He nearly tumbled off his stool.
Throughout the din of laughing, chattering, drinking, and it called out to him. It was the sweetest, most delectable-scented blood that he had ever had the joy of smelling. He had never felt blood call out to this like him before, not in all his three-hundred and forty-something years. It was an overwhelming temptation, one he had never felt before.
The bartender arrived with the Bloody Mary he had ordered, only to call out angrily when Midnight got off his stool and left without accepting the drink or paying.
He pushed through the crowd in a daze. More than once he vaguely registered someone grumbling about his rudeness or yelling at him to watch where he was going, but he ignored it in favor of finding the source of the scent.
A head of blonde hair appeared and it seemed the scent was coming from her. Red eyes widened and full of hunger, he was unable to tear his gaze from her.
Then she turned around, eyes meeting his momentarily through the crowd as she searched for someone, and he had to restrain himself from attacking her right then and there, regardless of the consequences. And then she was looking away, waving to someone behind him and the spell was broken—but he knew it then, a fact he believed with all his being.
He would be the only one to taste her, ever.
"Natsu! Get over here!"
"Oi, oi, I'm coming," called the pink-haired young man, pushing past grumbling patrons to meet up with his friends, who stood on the covered patio in the back of the bar.
Lucy Heartfilia was not a happy camper.
"Natsu!" she chided angrily when he finally reached her and their group. "How could you even suggest we come to a place like this? This is full of…of…of vampires!"
"They're just in costume," replied her friend Gray, albeit grumpily. He was in agreement with his blonde friend; people like them had no reason to come to a place like this.
"Why would anyone want to pretend to be a vampire?" Lucy demanded. "It doesn't make any sense—not at all!"
"I don't know either," Natsu said. "All I know is Cana said this place had the best prices on alcohol in Magnolia."
Lucy crossed her arms, unknowingly pressing her full breasts upwards teasingly. She was completely unaware of the lecherous stares this action brought. "And why are we taking Cana's advice on where to drink? Ever since she started dating Laxus, she's been going to places like this and quite frankly, I think he's a bad influence."
"Says you," Natsu objected. "She's been happier. That's all we can ask for as friends, right?"
"I hate to say this, but Natsu's right." Lucy's jaw dropped comically. Gray was agreeing with Natsu, his arch-rival?
"Where's Erza? She would understand what I'm talking about," Lucy retorted.
"Erza's not coming," Natsu said. "She said, and I quote, 'Drinking is unhealthy and a recipe for disaster. I won't partake in it.'"
"Great. Just great. I'm alone with you two?"
"Hey now," Gray snapped playfully, "I'm not that bad."
Lucy sighed. "Yeah, I know."
"Oi!"
Against her will, Lucy found herself laughing and patting Natsu lightly on the shoulder. "It's okay, Natsu. You're okay, too."
"Damn straight I am," he grumbled. "Well, since we're here, we might as well see about those prices, eh?"
Despite her better judgment, Lucy agreed and the trio made their way to the nearest bar. Elysium was jam-packed with people and thankfully, not all of them were dressed to look like vampires. At the same time, she found that some actually had fake fangs that were fitted to their mouths—or so she hoped, because they looked particularly realistic. Even if vampires were mythical creatures at best, she couldn't help but be frightened of them. After her mother's gruesome, bloody death, she found all thoughts of blood and by extension, blood-sucking vampires, scary and unwelcome thoughts in her mind. Even vampire bats scared the living daylights out of her.
Unlike her friends, who were roughly pushing past people without a care in the world, Lucy prided herself on the manners her upbringing had instilled in her. She took the role of apologizing to those that Natsu and Gray had offended, repeating apology after apology.
At some point during her attempts to placate her friends' rudeness, Lucy found that she had lost track of them in the throng of people.
"Oh, crap," she muttered upon realizing she had no idea where they were. She had made it to the bar, but they were nowhere in sight—of course, it was possible that they had simply been swept up in the crowd.
She was regretting come here more and more and was completely ready to go home.
It didn't help that she stuck out like a sore thumb in a room full of people dressed in all black—even those not dressed up as vampires still wore mostly dark colors. With her light green tank top, faded blue jeans, and red heels, she looked very much the part of someone who had wandered into the wrong place—and the odd looks she was getting from those she passed by only made it more obvious. She could only ignore the stares and search for a head of spikey pink hair—Gray's black hair just blended in with the rest.
Even so, there were a few false leads because it seemed that everyone here preferred a hair color that was not a natural color, with the exception of black. It was easy to come upon someone who had pink hair that was just a shade different than Natsu's, although his was strangely, completely natural.
And then she ran headlong into someone who hadn't had the courtesy to step out of her way.
Whoever it was had a body like a rock because upon pulling away and mumbling out an apology, she had to rub her nose to soothe it.
"It's quite alright," came the smooth, baritone tenor from whoever she'd run into.
Lucy glanced up at the taller individual, who still hadn't moved out of her way, and immediately had her breath taken away.
It wasn't in a good way.
He was very tall, although some of that height could probably be attributed to the worn combat boots he was wearing. Dressed in all black—and all leather—he didn't stand out in the slightest from the rest of the people at Elysium, but something about him was different. It wasn't the pale skin, although his pallor was so white it was almost translucent, nor the makeup that really made him fit in. Really though, black lipstick and eyeliner was overdoing it, wasn't it?
Then, making eye contact, she noticed he had crimson irises. It was clear, by now, that he was a die-hard goth. How many people actually invested in red-colored contacts?
Their eyes met and yet he still didn't move.
"Um…excuse me?" she said at last, slightly louder than usual to ensure he heard her. "I need to get by."
He was looking at her intently and didn't seem to hear what she'd said. The look in his eyes was a little creepy, she decided—it was like he was sizing her up, inspecting her. Lucy decided she didn't like it, not one bit.
"Excuse me," she repeated, a little more forcefully. With all the people around, it would be just as difficult to go around him as it would be to simply go through him.
He shook his head, as though suddenly alert again, and then smirked. She stiffened, seeing the fake fangs that so many people seemed to have here, but forced down the discomfort when he said, "Your friends are at the other bar." He pointed towards the bar across the room, skillfully evading jamming his finger into someone unsuspecting head—his height helped.
Lucy instinctively followed his finger and sure enough, she saw Natsu's familiar pink hair where the man had pointed.
She turned back to him, blinking. "How did you know-"
He was gone.
The blonde sighed. "Creepy," she muttered, but nonetheless made her way over to her friends. After much-less-politely shoving her way through the crowd, she finally met up with Natsu and Gray.
"Where were you? We lost you," Gray asked when she finally arrived.
"Yeah, I noticed," she replied sharply. She noticed the empty shot glass Natsu still held. "Are you guys going to be a while? Because I kind of feel like going home."
"Oh, come on, Luce. Just a little longer?"
Finding a surprisingly empty barstool, Lucy took a seat. "Fine. But you're not getting so drunk you have to stay the night at my place, okay?"
"Of course not," they both replied in unison. Then, on cue, they glared at each other's audacity to say the same thing.
"Bet I can drink more than you!" Natsu suddenly challenged.
"In your dreams!"
Lucy sighed, cradling her head in her hands. It was going to be a long night.
Then, as Natsu and Gray continued to drink and drink for the sake of their contest, she felt it; eyes on her. It was a disconcerting feeling, knowing that she was being watched. She assumed it was just one of the lecherous men who seemed to frequent these types of places, but the feeling still sent shivers down her spine. It was when she was escorting her completely-plastered friends home that she actually became afraid.
The feeling was not going away. She was being followed and with her friends in their current state, they would be of no help—in fact, they would be a liability.
Regretting having ever come to Elysium in the first place, Lucy steeled herself and prepared to evade the worst.
The closer he was to her, the more his control over his bloodlust seemed to weaken.
Standing in her way on purpose so she would run into him had nearly made him lose control. He'd had to fight his urges viciously to stop from draining her right then and there. It would have certainly been an issue if that had happened; such large-scale damage control would have his sire punishing him for years, if not decades. His sire could be a very patient man and was merciless when it came to discipline.
While it had been satisfying enough just to be near her enough to indulge in her scent, he found himself craving her blood more and more as time went on. The moment she left Elysium hadn't been able to come soon enough.
It did, eventually—but she left with her friends. He had no issue eliminating the two intoxicated males, but it would be more difficult to get the chase he wanted from her if she was stricken and in shock because of their deaths. No, it would be easier if she was simply alone.
From the rooftops, he followed them, easily keeping up by vaulting from roof to roof. He didn't need to see them; he only had to follow the tempting scent of her blood.
One after the other she dropped them off at their respective apartments; the two boys apparently lived rather close to each other. First the pink-haired young man, then the black-haired one, right after the other. As soon as she had left the last apartment complex and was presumably on her way back to her own, he dropped from the roof and landed silently only yards behind her.
She stopped suddenly and he wondered if she had somehow heard him. It would make things simpler, not even having to introduce himself before she started running, but after the momentary pause she began to walk again. Her posture was wary, however, and he could smell the fear tainting her scent.
What a smart little human. She knew he was there, hunting her; although perhaps she only thought she was being followed. She had no idea of the truth of her dire situation.
He followed her for a good while, keeping to the shadows and making his footsteps inaudible. It was clear she knew she was not alone on her walk home; she kept near the lights and away from dark alleyways. He applauded her conscientiousness, but it would not save her.
Then, under a lamplight, she stopped altogether. She took a deep breath, and then, "Stop following me or I'll call the cops. I know you're there."
He couldn't repress the chuckle that bubbled from his throat. The cops? What a joke.
Nonetheless, he stepped out from the shadows. "That's not very polite. I was simply enjoying the…view."
She whirled around, eyes wide. She obviously hadn't expected him to actually reveal himself.
"Y-you?" she stammered, and it came out as more of a question than an accusation. That in and of itself was rather amusing.
"Yes, me." He paused, allowing her to absorb her situation. He couldn't resist letting some fang show past his lips.
She backed away, not taking her eyes off him and staying close to the lamppost. "What do you want?" Her words were strong but her voice was weak.
Enjoying the situation far too much, he pretended to think about her question. "For you to start running, I suppose, would be preferable." He bared his fangs and relished the way her fear spiked.
He saw a trembling hand reaching for her purse, probably where her cell phone was.
"What, afraid of vampires?" he mocked.
"Vampires don't exist, you freak," she spat. "Leave me alone." Her hand had clasped over her cell phone. "I will seriously call the cops. Go away."
How brave…and foolish.
In a flash, he utilized his speed to appear directly in front of her and grab the hand that held her phone. Clenching his cold hand over her, he crushed the phone as she held it.
In shock and pain, she screamed. Her hand had been cut because she had still been holding the phone as he mangled the technology. The fresh scent of her blood filled his senses and it was all he could do to command her, lest he end the chase before it began.
"Run."
Terrified, she complied, wrenching her hand from his grasp and taking off as quickly as she could in her heels.
He let her go, knowing that she would need a decent head start for the hunt to be any fun. He was willing to be more than patient; some of her blood had trickled onto her palm when she released the phone in order to run and he took great pleasure in licking it off his skin.
That was her scent, her taste; cinnamon and honey.
It was a shame such a delightful flavor would be gone after he caught her.
Then again, the thought of not being able to enjoy her blood after that night was something of a put-out, honestly.
Once her scent had faded sufficiently, he went after her. He took his time, leaping from roof to roof, but he noticed she was headed towards a more populated area of Magnolia; he wasn't sure if it was the direction of her home or not, but the more people around made it harder to fully enjoy the hunt—and he couldn't risk her somehow getting away entirely.
He sped ahead of her and then, just as she was turning a corner, landed in front of her.
"Wrong way, my sweet," he purred. She shrieked and turned around to go the other direction, but the scent of the blood flowing from her hand was too much. Instead of taking the rooftops again, he began to herd her towards an alleyway that was dark enough be sufficient for his purposes.
"Leave me alone!" she screamed, and he could smell her tears.
Midnight shivered with anticipation.
And then it was time. The chase had been satisfying, but it was time to reap his reward. Appearing beside her, just as she screamed he shoved her backwards into the alley. She stumbled and fell, but was immediately trying to get back on her feet. At this point she was breathing so hard that it made it impossible to catch her breath and scream, so the only sound in the alleyway was her sobbing and panting.
"Leave…me…alone!" she begged as he stalked towards her. Her breasts heaved in the most attractive of ways as she scrambled away from him and it was strange, but he found himself actually…desiring the young woman. It wasn't foreign to him but he rarely participated in the pleasures of the flesh; there were so many more satisfying things to do as a vampire.
This acknowledged, it was truly a shame she had to die.
"Get up," he commanded, eyes narrowing. She glowered at him obstinately but staggered to her feet anyways, obviously seeing that being upright gave her a better chance of escaping.
It would be true if she had any chance of getting away at all.
He stalked towards her and her teary eyes were flitting everywhere, trying to keep an eye on him while looking for a chance to escape all the while. It was a futile endeavor, but he allowed it—the longer it took him to reach her, the more her delectable fear spiked and flooded his senses. A low, hungry growl came from his throat.
"I-I don't have any money," she stammered, backing away shakily. She was clutching her purse to her chest, blood trickling from her injured hand. His eyes honed in on the drops of red slowly spilling to the ground and found himself annoyed that perfectly good blood was being wasted.
He began to advance more quickly.
"Seriously! What do you want?" she screamed. He was suddenly upon her and she cried out, turning to run, but he caught her bloody hand, stopping her.
Midnight held the hand to his face for inspection. It was sweaty from her run and the blood had slowly started to coagulate, but the scent was still as intoxicating as ever. He took a deep breath, inhaling the smell that was quickly becoming a drug to him.
Her brown eyes were widened in horror and she was unable to scream, even when he brought her hand to his mouth and licked it lengthwise.
She was breathing heavily and disbelief was evident in her eyes as he began to suck on the wound, drawing more blood to the surface. His eyes, glazed over with bloodlust, met hers and maintained eye contact as he continued to assault her hand.
"Sick freak," she whispered with surprising anger and conviction—clearly her self-preservation had disappeared with the extent of her terror.
He finished with her hand, giving it a final lick. "Perhaps," he agreed blithely. The comment riled her and she yanked at her hand, fear forgotten.
"Let me go, you vampire-wannabe! Go be disgusting somewhere else!" she shouted.
He wasn't often annoyed by words like that, but for some reason her saying them irritated him beyond belief. Midnight gripped her hand tightly and then, using it as an anchor, slammed her into the nearest wall. She cried out, her head snapping back against the brick, but didn't stop her from pulling at her hand; he simply used her struggles to advance upon her.
"I suppose I would wish I was a fake, if I were in your situation," he mused aloud. She glared at him and then, in a moment of clear desperation, kicked out at him with her sharp heel.
He knocked her leg to the side carelessly with his knee and she stumbled, unable to hold all her weight with one weak leg. As she fought for balance, she spat, "Vampires aren't real. Get over yourself!"
It was refreshing that she had a fighting spirit, he supposed. Most women—or anyone, really—would be in shambles, screaming and begging for their lives, but she wasn't. She was frightened, yes, but she also was valiantly trying to hide it. It was pointless because he could smell it in her blood, but the sentiment was appreciated.
He towered over her and leaned in. She was small compared to him, but not overly short. Her petite form, with the exception of her breasts, made her seem smaller than she was.
"I think you're about to find out that you're wrong," he murmured. His sire often told him that it was a waste of time and energy to play with one's food, but Midnight had never quite been able to agree with that. Perhaps he was considered particularly sadistic for a vampire, but the smell, the taste of fear was of a pleasure equivalent to that of an orgasm.
It had never affected him negatively in the past, so he saw no reason to forgo his favorite part of the hunt.
"Back off," she replied tremulously. Her momentary anger had completely dissipated in her fear and her harsh words belied her actual feelings.
He could taste them.
Their noses were practically touching and she trembled with terror, but she never broke eye contact. In her own fearful way, she was daring him to try anything; it was a challenge.
Midnight never backed down from a challenge.
However, as much as he wanted to draw out the last part of his meal, being so close to her and hearing her blood thrumming through her veins, practically tasting her warm essence on his tongue, he found he could hold out no longer. The bloodlust overwhelmed him and with the deftness and speed of a viper, he latched onto her neck and pierced the skin with his fangs. All she could manage was a choked, surprised yelp before he viciously pulled her blood from her jugular.
The taste was unlike any he'd ever had; it was so sweet and rich that it made him dizzy. Before he knew it she had gone limp and her pulse was weak. There was little left in her and she would die soon if he kept going.
He was perfectly fine if a human died, especially if one was his meal because it was typically unavoidable, but at the sudden, simple thought that he would never taste her blood again, Midnight was brought to pause.
If he hadn't found blood like hers in nearly 350 years, what were the chances he would find it again?
Making his decision abruptly, he pulled away from her neck and lapped at the bite mark, savoring the last traces he would taste that night and letting his saliva help the wound scab over. It would leave a nasty bruise, as usual, except that it would be on a living person instead of a dead one—but despite its inherent ability to give away his kind's existence, it also served a purpose. It was very important, actually; she couldn't be permitted to forget about him. He would be back—many times before he was told to return home by his sire—and to have to reintroduce himself all over again would be irritating.
It was then that he realized he didn't know her name. Annoying, but easily fixed.
Letting her unconscious form drop to the ground carelessly, he retrieved the purse she'd abandoned nearby. Upon finding her ID—handy little things, they were—he was able to ascertain her name, age, address—everything he would need for the future months he had of vacation.
Name: Lucy Heartfilia. Age: 21. Address: 2027 Celestial Grove, Ste. 304.
There was more information, but most of it was easily discerned from simply meeting her, such as hair color, eye color, height, and so on. He noticed how her blood type was AB. How coincidental and yet unsurprising; he'd always been partial to AB.
Tucking the ID back into her wallet and the wallet back into her purse, he observed the unconscious young woman in front of him. Looking at her more closely, he reasoned it was only natural that he desired her for more than just her blood. She was curvaceous nearly to a fault, with a slim waist but wide hips and a generous bosom. Her face simply accentuated her already-pleasing body with full lips, a cute, feminine nose, and high cheekbones. She dressed strangely conservatively for her body—certainly she knew that if she took advantage of her looks, she could woo any man she wanted into submission?
Then again, it was perhaps for the best that she dressed as she did; he felt oddly possessive of her, disliking the thought of any other seeing what she had to offer. He decided that he would know everything there was to about her body and it was distasteful to think of any other male knowing her that way.
His thoughts trailed back to the two young men. For their sakes, he hoped that neither was romantically attached to her, because the last thing was going to do was share.
Midnight hoisted the unconscious girl up and took to the rooftops again, trying to call up on what little he knew of Magnolia so far to get an idea of where she lived. It would not do to have someone seeing him carrying a limp body, especially given how battered she looked. In all honesty, he hadn't hurt her much, but the blood from her hand had caked and dried and her clothes were dirty from her fall; she was a bit of a mess. Then, of course, was the mark on her neck. To those who did not believe in vampires, the bruise would be mistaken for assault and strangulation.
Remembering her zip code from the ID card, he found that with a little wandering he found the direction that led to her apartment. He smirked when he realized that she had been purposely leading him away from her home. It was an easy matter of getting there, climbing easily over the gates that guarded the community—he found they were townhomes, which was very also very convenient, just like many things in the situation. Less contact with neighbors meant less chance of being caught or discovered. This was all turning out to be rather ideal and it all brought forth the thought of fate.
Pleased, he found her home with little issue and, withdrawing her keys from her purse, entered the abode.
It was a small but pleasant place to live. A single bed in a single room on the second story and the lack of any other strong scents signified that she lived alone, which made things, yet again, so much simpler. Upon entering her room, he laid her on her bed. Leaving her there, he checked the refrigerator and found that while she did not have orange juice—something ideal for someone who'd just had the majority of their blood drained—she had a few other helpful drinks and foods that would aid with her quick recovery. Still, she would need to purchase certain foods to help spur on blood reproduction.
Deciding that his job—making sure she healed quickly and was full of blood to spare for a later date—was sufficiently completed, Midnight went on to a slightly more pressing matter.
He'd never left a victim alive before, but he knew logically that someone who survived an attack would want to tell someone—anyone—about what had happened for fear of it happening again.
This Lucy Heartfilia could not be allowed such liberties.
In the end, it was a simple matter of threatening her friend's lives. Since she'd brought them home first, he had a good idea of where they lived and it would be easy to eliminate them. A quick, scrawled note outlining the threat that would result in her silence concerning her attack, as well as not-so-suggested suggestions about what to eat for a speedy recovery, was posted to the refrigerator. For her friend's sakes, he hoped she found the note before she said anything because he really had no qualms about killing one of them as an example to make sure she understood the severity of her situation. How delightful that there were two of them.
Maintenance of his game completed, Midnight locked her door from the interior and then left through the window; he it left open, so she knew that the attack, the threat, and his ongoing presence in her life was not a figment of her imagination.
Thoroughly satisfied with this new turn of events, Midnight was not averse to taking a leisurely stroll back to his hotel room on the opposite side of town.
So if you like it and want more, follow/favorite/review to let me know you want more! The sooner you all let me know what you want, the sooner I can have an update ready! Of course, if nobody likes it...well, that's just life, eh? I just need to know if this is a fruitless endeavor.
Review!
Cheers!
Of Healing Love