To new readers: This is not a sequel. You will not need to read Blood Bride if you are interested in this story, unless you desire to know my characters, Ophelia and Jon's background. With that being said, enjoy the story!
The frosty air ached her teeth, her chest burning as she heaved and panted against the cold January night. Tears built up in her hazel orbs, glazing over her beautiful eyes and blurring her vision. The reds, yellows, greens, and blues of the streetlights meshed together in slender streaks, dizzying the fifteen-year-old girl as she ran down the dark street of a New York neighborhood.
No longer able to see clearly, she relied on the grimy bricks to support her. Her fingernails dug into the crumbling walls, pushing off them to move her tired legs forward.
She coughed and cried, the constant flow of clear droplets slipping over her chapped lips burned the lacerations along her mouth.
Her sobs resembled one of a fawn that lost its mother, and she truly felt like she had tonight.
Eventually she found him. Standing on the corner where he said he would be.
The ashes of the cigarette he held between his fingers was freshly lit, the burning ashes glowing an intense orange when he inhaled the nicotine. His cheeks sunk in, enhancing the shape of his carved features. The pale tan of his skin illuminated a soft yellow under the street lamp he leaned against, the light rolling off his dead flesh and pooling around his feet.
Wafting in the breeze, was his aroma. Warm like cinnamon spice. Comfort in a man that felt like home. From his locks of hair that were the color of burnt caramel, to his defined being, everything about him gave her the safety she didn't feel in her own home.
It soothed her heart that beat painfully within her ribcage, but not enough to calm her ragged breaths.
He could hear her approach and his hood eyes immediately drew in her direction.
"Baby girl, what happened?" His brows furrowed in concern, flicking the cancer stick to the ground and crushing it beneath his shoe.
"Isaiah." She hiccuped his name, taking a few painfully exhausted steps in his direction, before he kicked away from the lamp post and caught the traumatized girl. Her eyes were swollen and face was streaked with clear streaks along her olive toned completion.
"Again?" She just clutched his shirt and became hysterical.
"I can't go back there. She doesn't believe me, Isaiah. She doesn't believe me." For years she kept it hidden, but tonight she finally couldn't take it anymore. She told her mother, however she didn't believe Joy. Or she didn't want to. Whatever it was, she needed to get out of that shit apartment. Away from her drug induced mother and Sam. She couldn't do it anymore. "I'm scared. I'm always so scared, and I-I feel so sick and disgusting, I just wanna-"
His hold tightened around her, and it brought her sobs to a halt.
"Shhh. It's alright." He rocked her, and even against his cold skin, she felt warm. "Look at me, baby girl." Joy brought her pink eyes up to his sienna illuminated irises. "He'll get his. I’ll make sure of that, okay? He ain't ever gonna bother you again."
Isaiah's words weaved their way into her heart, consoling the trembling girl. She was a bright student, a lively girl with good grades and a beautiful lady, inside and out, a girl whose dream was to be a dancer. By night she was a completely different girl. One who lived in constant fear.
She tried. Tried so very hard to pull herself from the poverty and drug addiction she was brought up in, but unfortunately, as she would grow older, that would not be the case. She would fall into step with her mother. After all, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
Maybe she might have had a chance if she never met him.
She heavily sighed against his chest in relief, resting her head against him.
"You'll stay with me for a while, and I'll deal with that sick fuck." Joy hugged closer to him, his lips that caressed protruding fangs pressed to her head.
Her name was Joy.
Joy Castillo.
A doll faced girl who never had a chance.
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Blood Lust
Vampire[UNEDITED] Something about the way she smiled was faux. Like the lashes that lined her eyelids. Like the makeup that coated her skin. Like her breasts. It was fake and he could see right through it as she slid down from the pole her leg was snaked a...
