GOLDEN BLOOD

Paris's phone chimed with a message on Saturday evening. It was from Terence, saying "Good evening, Miss Noel. I'm waiting for you downstairs."

He greeted her again and opened the car door as she approached. Paris nodded in response to his greeting before getting into the back seat of the car.

As they rounded the bend, they came upon a sprawling dock, lined with sleek and luxurious yachts. Paris couldn't help but feel a sense of awe as she stepped out of the car and took in the scene before her.

And there, at the end of the dock, stood Alexander, looking effortlessly suave and charming against the backdrop of his impressive vessel.

It was clear he was trying to impress her, his ploy apparent in the way he casually leaned against the deck railing, awaiting her arrival. But Paris couldn't deny the thrill that coursed through her at the sight of such opulence and extravagance. She knew this would be a night to remember.

“Welcome, Paris,” he said with a warm smile, his eyes sparkling like the stars above. Alexander stood tall and confident, exuding an air of charm and attractiveness that was almost god-like. He reached out his hand to her, and she couldn't resist taking it.

"Hello, Alex," she replied, feeling a flutter in her stomach as their hands touched.

Alexander leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss on her cheek. The touch of his lips against her skin sent a wave of calm through her body, erasing any lingering anxieties.

"Thank you for coming," he said softly, his voice like velvet.

The boat glided gracefully over the calm, glistening seawater, its gentle movements mirroring the undulating waves. Paris stood at the rail, leaning in towards the heavy wooden frame, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The air was filled with the familiar tang of brine and salt, carried by a slight breeze that swirled around them.

Despite the chill of the night, their warm conversations continued to flow like a steady current, illuminated by the sparkling stars above. As they spoke, their eyes were fixed on each other, silently communicating a deeper connection than mere words could convey.

As the dinner table was set, a server appeared carrying steaming bowls of soup. Paris's brow furrowed as she gazed at her lobster bisque, noting its rich orange color and chunks of succulent shellfish. She couldn't help but compare it to Alexander's bowl of deep red liquid.

"Is something wrong?" he inquired, noticing her hesitation.

"It's...um...why does my soup look different than yours?" she finally asked, her curiosity getting the best of her.

A sly smile spread across Alexander's lips as he leaned in closer. "Because mine has blood."

Paris's stomach lurched at the thought, even though she knew it shouldn't surprise her given that Alexander was a vampire.

"Oh! Appetizing," she managed to say before everything went black.

After about twenty seconds, Paris slowly opened her eyes to find herself cradled in Alexander's arms.

"Did I pass out again?" she asked, feeling embarrassed and slightly dizzy.

Alexander brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. "How am I supposed to hold a conversation with you without bringing up blood? Knuckle down to one thing, Paris. I'm a Vampire, and I drink blood."

She couldn't help but nod at his words.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she faced Alexander, a man she hardly knew but felt drawn to. Her mind raced with questions, and her body trembled with a mix of fear and curiosity.

"Why me? What do you want from me?" Paris asked, her voice quivering.

"I have a proposition for you," Alexander replied coolly, his eyes fixed on hers. "I need your blood, and in return, I'll compensate you. Any price. No limit."

A proposition? Paris couldn't believe what she was hearing. Her mind immediately conjured images of dark magic and sinister intentions.

"Is that all you want from me?" she finally managed to ask, her voice laced with disbelief and a hint of disappointment.

"Yes..." Alexander's answer was clipped and final.

Paris couldn't help but feel a twinge of foolish hope that perhaps he had some other interest in her. But as she looked into his cold, calculating gaze, she realized that it was all about business for him. A simple transaction, nothing more.

"I thought...you liked me," she stammered, feeling humiliated and rejected.

"Paris, did you think I liked you romantically?" Alexander's tone was almost mocking.

Tears welled up in Paris's eyes as she struggled to maintain her composure. "So this was it - you're only interested in my blood?”

"Ever since the first day," Alexander confirmed his words like daggers to Paris's heart.

Her voice cracked and trembled as she spoke, the words tumbling out in a rush of emotion. "I can't believe this," she breathed, her eyes brimming with tears. "I'm such a girl, a stupid girl, to think there could be something growing between us."

Her heart felt heavy as she uttered the words, each syllable weighted with disappointment and regret. The realization of her feelings hit her like a sudden storm, overwhelming and unrelenting. She couldn't believe she had been so blind to it all.

A rush of emotion welled up inside her, the tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. "I would like to leave," she whispered, struggling to keep her voice steady.

But before she could make her escape, he held out a hand to stop her. "Paris, before you go, do we have a deal?" His voice was pleading and desperate as if his very life depended on her answer.

She hesitated, unsure of how to respond. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air between them, the gravity of their situation becoming increasingly apparent.

"Deal? I don't know," she finally managed to say, her mind racing with conflicting thoughts and emotions. "I'll have to think about it, Mr. Desmodus."

‘Desmodus. She called me Desmodus, and not Alex.’

She had called him by his last name, distancing herself from him even as he tried to hold onto her. But instead of feeling angry or offended, he looked deeply hurt, the lines of weariness on his forehead deepening slightly.

"Paris," he said softly, reaching out to place a hand on hers. She couldn't help but look down at the connection between them, feeling a sense of temporary fulfillment but knowing that soon she would be returning empty-handed.

"How much money do you want for your blood?" he asked, his voice dripping with disdain. she couldn't believe it as he refused to acknowledge the hurt in her eyes.

She felt her heart drop, weighed down by the harshness of the question and the lack of empathy in his tone. It was like being cut by a sharp blade, each word causing a new wound.

But she knew she couldn't show her pain, not to someone who saw her as nothing more than a commodity. So she bit back her tears and said firmly, pulling her hand away from his grip.

"I need to leave."

"Paris, it'll all be business...I promise." His words were smooth and calculated, but she could see the greed shining in his eyes.

She thought he was cruel. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, both from the pain of his words and the realization of what he truly wanted from her.

He didn't care about her feelings. He only showed compassion because he was solely interested in her blood. In fact, he never truly liked or cared for her.

As these thoughts raced through her mind, she felt a wave of nausea wash over her.

"I want to leave, now" she demanded with more force, determined to get away from this man who saw her as nothing more than a commodity.

Without another word, Alexander ordered the boat to turn around. The once beautiful evening had now become tainted by this encounter with greed and heartlessness. She couldn't wait to put this night behind her and escape from this person who had shown his true colors.

~*~

Ever since Paris had returned from his extravagant yacht, their last encounter had left her feeling utterly defeated for weeks on end. She was consumed with sorrow, drowning in a sea of despair.

The weight of her sadness was suffocating, like being trapped in a dark, endless tunnel with no hope of escape.

The mere thought of Alexander was like a sharp knife piercing her heart, reopening wounds. The memories flooded back and tears welled up in her eyes as she fought to hold back the pain.

Each breath felt like a struggle as if the weight of her sorrow was crushing down on her chest. She longed for the comfort of his touch but knew it would only bring more agony.

The influence that Alexander had on her was undeniable, yet it left her feeling desolate. Despite their brief meetings and stolen kisses, it felt like they had known each other for years, and now they were broken up without being in a relationship of any sort.

Did he not care?

She couldn't help but blame her own heart for believing in all the wrong predictions and losing hope in love. Perhaps his heart was as cold as his body was. Why do heartless people exist in this world?

While bitter thoughts swirled around in Paris's mind. Over there in the mansion, Terence paced back and forth, his brow creased with worry as he gazed at Alexander's frail form. The once strong and vibrant man was now on the brink of death, his body growing weaker by the minute. Even the skilled hands of the doctor had been unable to save him.

It had been a month since Alexander last drank any blood, and his body was now rejecting all other types. His only chance at survival was Paris's blood, and he needed it desperately.

Time was running out for him. Every moment that passed without the precious liquid coursing through his veins brought him closer to the edge of oblivion. Terence could feel the panic rising within him as he watched his master's life slip away before his very eyes. They needed to act fast, or it would be too late.

~X~