Of Monsters and Men ₰ The Originals

Chapter One | Blood Rising Under the Moon

This book is based and inspired by the Originals, with a tinge of the Vampire Diaries. I suggest that you watch the shows to understand some occurrences.

All rights go to The Originals television show on the CW, and Lisa Jane Smith (the author), except the characters and events that are purely of my imagination.

I JUST WANT TO SAY THAT IF ANYONE IS COPYING SECTIONS FROM THIS BOOK THAT ARE OF MY INVENTION, PLEASE TAKE ACTION.

(EDITED/COMPLETELY REWRITTEN)

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The song of the chapter is: Secrets by OneRepublic

I need another story,

Something to get off my chest.

My life gets kinda boring,

Need something that I can confess.

'Til all my sleeves are stained red,

From all the truth that I've said.

Come by it honestly I swear,

Thought you saw me wink, no,

I've been on the brink, so,

Tell me what you want to hear,

Something that will light those ears.

Sick of all the insincere,

So I'm gonna give all my secrets away.

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At the side is the picture of my main character, Melissandre (or modernly known as Melissa) Fiorelli.

CHAPTER ONE ― BLOOD RISING UNDER THE MOON

HEAT PULSES SICKENINGLY UNDER my skin like a festering disease. My mouth twists of its own accord and I jerkily scratch the back of my neck in search of some blessed relief. Lifting my hair up with my hands, an exhale makes its way out of my painted crimson lips as gelid air brushes past my skin, caressing it delicately.

I throw back my head, reflexively arching my back. My clothes stick to me like a second skin as a sheen of warm sweat coats my surface. My gums ache dully, a sweet ache that makes my vision swim hypnotisingly like a snake. Suddenly, the rapid tic tic tic of stilettos approaches me and I fling myself quickly to the other side of the washroom, as far as I could physically be from the door.

A curly blonde woman enters, haphazardly swinging her chocolate Dior purse, eyes lighted up and dilated far too excessively to be considered normal, the cacophonic music made louder briefly before the door slams shut. She giggles and I wince immediately as her high-pitched tone shoots into my ears and scratches with razor-sharp claws against the tender skin of my eardrums.

I sweep my black hair to the top of my head and tie it into a messy knot ― some dishevelled thing that did not vaguely resemble the bun I had envisioned. Nonetheless, I could not care less at the moment of the state of my hair. I couldn't afford to waste my trickling time that fell eerily similar to the grains of sand inside an hourglass.