Page 12 of Sanguineous Fiend
I search the rows for the perfect wigs that will match the two new dresses I just bought. The world doesn’t know what’s coming for them. I don’t need the rich assholes’ money any more than I need their cocks. I just want their blood.
Up and down each row, I search for the perfect wigs. Something that will hide who I am enough that it will be worth it. A blonde short wig catches my eye and I grab it from the shelf. It’s real human hair, which means if something is left behind, DNA will be prominent, but it won’t be mine.
Just as I turn around, a red long curled beauty catches my eye and I move toward the wall that holds the gorgeous number.It’s so perfect. I grab it down and take them both to the counter before continuing my search for a few more.
I load my arms with a few of the cheaper wigs and then head for the counter to pay for my haul. She rings everything up and bags it all for me before I pay with my cash and then exit the store. Figured cash is better than using a card, though I could play the wigs off for business purposes. I don’t want these particular ones traced back to me.
Just a smart move on my part in case they come looking for me. I grabbed some others in case they found footage of my purchases. I have to cover my ass, too. No reason not to be smart about this. While I don’t care if I’m caught, I can at least try to get away with murder.
I drop my purchases into the car before climbing in behind the wheel and popping a cigarette between my lips. The flick of the lighter soothing to my soul as I light the tip and the red drags along as I pull the smoke into my lungs. Fucking will never get over the feeling I get while smoking. It’s like a peaceful drift as my brain and hands are occupied with anything else other than what it’s supposed to be.
I don’t know if it’s like that for everyone but for me, cigarettes keep what little sanity I have left intact. Not that there is very much. I roll my window down and the cool air skips along my exposed arms as I pull away from the curb and into the flow of traffic.
I’m going out tonight and I know it’s going to end in another murder. I found myself planning this one not long after the last one ended. The cops had released footage of me at the hotel, but no one had come forward to reveal my identity. So here I am, planning another night on the town, with another body to be found.
It’s been two weeks since my world changed and I became blood obsessed. I wanted to feel that sticky crimson liquid onmy body once again. To bathe in the very life source of someone as I fucked myself. I craved it like nothing I’ve ever had before.
I was meant to be a psycho and I just never realized it before. So when I pull back up to my house and let myself in my garage, I am practically all smiles as I drag my purchases from the car so I can get ready for tonight.
Tonight is the true test. Will it have been a one time high to kill or will I still be just as addicted as the first time?
The fancy building has a man at the door to open it for you when you enter. I don’t stay anywhere near here, so I don’t even think I’ve been on this side of town before. It’s far more than I would have imagined.
The gold inlaid on the doors, and the center of the glass is frosted. So when I enter the opened door, I damn near freeze in place. Intricate patterns swirl on the granite floors beneath my high heels and I smile at the beauty that it creates. The walls are a solid black with golden trim. It’s layered in bright white and dark pitch black with gold filling the space perfectly.
The hotel lobby is so high end that I know the bar is going to be even more so. So when I head in the direction the sign leads me, I make sure my shoulders are relaxed and that my head is held high, like I’m the owner of the place. I deserve to be here as much as anyone else.
The bar has a marble counter to match the floors, and the barstools are all black velvet lined. It’s packed more than I thought possible. Men and women mill about the place as they move around to other tables. A few groups of men sit aroundlarge tables with women either in seats at their side or even sitting on their laps. Draped in such a way that I’m pretty sure a few of them have dicks buried inside of the women. Discreetly, of course, but all the same, they are fucking in the open bar.
Money really lets you do anything, doesn’t it?
I sit at the bar and order a drink to nurse as I get the feel for the place. I study the men and women all around me as I sip the fruity liquid. Laughter, talking, and random glasses moving are all that I can hear until fingers wrap around my lower arm.
I look over my shoulder to find a man next to me trying to get my attention. He’s dressed in an all black suit. He’s handsome by anyone’s standards. Perfect GQ boy, if I ever saw one. Perfect blonde hair to match his wide smile. He has blue eyes that seem to look straight into my soul.
I offer a smile to the man and he leans in so I can hear him over the crowd in here.
“I don’t think we’ve met. My name is Ashton. May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?”
A smooth talker. Someone who knows their way around a woman.
“Pheobe.”
“Such a pleasure, Pheobe. Mind if I take this seat?”
Such manners. I wonder if he knows what a bad idea that really is or if he thinks I’m this sweet little hooker for him to pick up? I bet on the latter.
“Please. I think the pleasure is all mine tonight.”
I flirt with him, waiting to see his reaction. He takes the hint immediately and his smile turns predatory. That look right there is when I know that he’s the one I need tonight. He’s my target. Another victim that will be worth removing from the world.
It doesn’t take long for me to know that this isn’t his first time praying on women at bars. He may like them fancy andrich, but he wants to do some damage to them before it’s over with. I can see the demons behind those eyes of his.
This is a dangerous game I’m playing with him. It’s going to be a who strikes first or maybe who strikes last. I take a sip of my drink and we make small talk as the night moves forward. I’ve drunk several drinks and it feels good to just talk with this man. He’s easygoing, but I don’t let my guard down because I know his type.
The kind that will be all nice in public and then become a demon behind closed doors. It’s scary and yet I want to go back to his room tonight. I want to feel his life drain from him because he is my victim, not the other way around.
“Let’s get out of here.”
