Je vous souhaite d’être follement aimée.
— “My wish is that you may be loved to the point of madness.”
You want Rooks blood. Rook wants you.
(Slight tw(?): injury, blood, blood consumption, Rook.)
Hunger had always been a part of your being—an animalistic itch to satisfy a core survival need.
Hunger was what made you up entirely, and you hated it.
It was uncomfortable, annoying—especially since you were in a position where you had to work for your food rather than having it handed to you on a silver platter.
Sometimes a hunt would be successful.
A nasty wound on your side lay open wide for the world to see, your still-cold blood exposed. Silent curses left your lips as you weaved your way through the dark trees.
Tonight had to be the worst night ever.
Honestly, it was a grave consequence for trying to hunt in a town—hunger and hubris getting the better of you, resulting in this. Angry mobs chased after your fleeting form, leaving you scratched up and wounded.
Can’t a poor ol’ vampire eat around here?
Heavy footsteps came to a gradual halt as you stopped running. A tired groan left your lips as you slumped against a nearby tree.
For a moment, you could finally breathe.
No shrieking voices of fearful, angry humans driving you away from their settlement. Just you and that annoying, familiar sense of hunger.
You sighed and let your eyes fall shut. A moment of reprieve settled in as darkness swallowed your sight.
No shouts of angry humans.
No roaring flames threatening to mark your skin.
Just the soft sound of wind passing through—and silence.
“Oh là là, what do we have here?”
You jumped at the sudden voice beside you, adrenaline rushing through you as you turned quickly to face the unknown speaker.
Tall, blond, dressed in dark clothes—and awfully amused.
Your gaze flickered over his form, lips shifting into a disgruntled frown as you noticed a familiar silver cross hanging from his neck. First the angry mob, now a vampire hunter? Ugh—could this night get any worse?
Green eyes stared directly at you, their intensity causing you to instinctively bare your teeth.
But the action didn’t seem to do much—the only reaction you got was a chuckle.
“Non, non, non—do not bare your magnifique fangs at me.”
The smirk on his face shifted into a bright smile.
Radiant in every way, he shone like the cursed sun—filled with such vitality that it could only be labeled as human. You visibly winced at his presence.
For a moment, you stared at him blankly.
Was… was he being serious?
Your lips closed as your dark eyes narrowed at the strange man’s form, confusion and wariness bubbling within.
The word help sounded foreign to your ears—like a triangle trying to fit into a circular tomb, each sharp point forced down until its shape became disfigured mush.
“I don’t need help with anything.”
You hissed back, brows furrowed as you straightened your posture, hands flexed and ready for an attack.
A twist in your stomach resurfaced—though it wasn’t the usual hunger pang. No, it was the feeling of being cornered.
A predator like you had now become prey—an ugly, primal feeling that felt worse than hunger.
His smile never wavered as he observed your tense form, sending a shiver down your spine. He leaned against a nearby tree, seemingly at ease despite the visible threat you exuded.
“Ah, but it seems to me that you do require assistance.”
He chuckled softly, raising a hand to point at your injured side.
“Your condition is quite severe. You wouldn’t want to bleed out in the middle of the forest, now would you?”
Your lips pressed into a thin line as you scrutinized him, distrust evident in your expression.
It was clear there was a motive behind his actions—one that hadn’t been made clear to you.
Hunting weapons glistened under the pale moonlight. It wasn’t every day that a vampire hunter offered a vampire assistance.
(Actually… this was probably a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence.)
With a click of your tongue, you stared at him, body still rigid with uncertainty.
“What do you want in return?”
A reckless question, yes. It was this sort of carelessness that caused many to die—a sight you had seen before.
But unfortunately for you, you were desperate, and for a moment, you decided to throw away your pride.
A small, amused smirk tugged at the corners of the man’s lips as he noticed the wariness in your gaze.
He pushed himself off the tree, his eyes never leaving you as he took a few steps closer.
“You see, I have a certain… interest in you.”
He paused, tilting his head as his gaze roamed over your features, taking in every detail.
“In exchange for my assistance, I only ask for one thing.”
His smile widened as he stepped closer, now standing just an arm’s length away.
“Allow me to observe you. It is my only request.”
His voice was low, almost a whisper, as he extended a hand toward your injured side—hovering just above it.
Your gaze flickered downward, and you stiffened before swatting his hand away. His grin only widened, amusement and curiosity swirling in his eyes.
He didn’t back away. Instead, he remained close, his gaze never leaving yours—which only deepened your irritation.
What a strange human. If you were in any better condition, you would’ve killed him where he stood.
A disgruntled huff left your lips as you frowned, begrudgingly accepting that you were going to agree.
A moment of silence passed before you continued.
“But I’ll have you know—vampires don’t heal in the traditional sense. Your human medicine won’t do anything for me.”
He hummed in acknowledgment—almost sounding intrigued, though you ignored the notion.
A dark glint shone in your eyes as you grinned, challenging.
Curiosity bloomed within you. Would this vampire hunter back away and let his human instincts take over—or would he stay, knowing the price?
You waited, tilting your head.
“Do you still want to help?”
His smirk softened into a genuine smile, a chuckle escaping his lips.
His tone was casual, almost playful—far too amused for your liking.
“Help is what I offered, and help is what I shall provide.”
He extended his hand again, gentler this time.
“Although, you did say you require blood, yes?”
You shifted your attention to his hand before slowly reaching out and taking it.
Warmth seeped through the fabric of his glove, the closeness making your teeth ache.
Strange as it was, this was an opportunity you couldn’t ignore. Passing up a free meal would be idiotic.
You glanced at his face, then back to his arm as you pulled up his sleeve.
Smooth, unblemished skin—like fresh snow waiting to be trampled.
Your throat tightened as you leaned down, fangs extending before sinking into his forearm. Warmth spread across your lips.
Oh well. No time to question it now.
For now, you would simply enjoy it.
To be close to a voracious creature like you was quite thrilling, straying from his usual habit of finding and hunting. He’d met many vampires before, but none of them were quite as enchanting as you.
Watching from the tree line, Rook observed your hunt—that had promptly gone astray.
Fires roared with fury, and hurried footsteps moved to drive away the danger that threatened their town. Rook watched as you ran, tracking your steps with precision before coming to a halt—drinking in the sight of you pausing, naively thinking you were out of harm’s way and resting for a moment.
Rook could kill you. He should kill you, but you were simply too charming to end—especially after that display of vigorous escape.
Ah, the satisfaction he felt upon hearing your agreement. Backed into a corner with only the instinct to survive, how your eyes flashed with anger—your vampiric pride undeniable. But the way your hands twitched, the way you suppressed your fangs in contemplation—like an injured wolf cub.
Rook simply couldn’t let go.
So here he was, arms exposed for consumption, allowing his vitality to be taken.
A cold shiver ran down Rook’s spine, a low sound escaping his lips as the sharp pain of your bite spread—quickly morphing into something more euphoric. His body thrummed with anticipation, the rush causing his heart to race wildly.
What a sight for Rook—your lips stained with the vermilion of blood, his blood.
“Ah… you truly are a creature of beauty.”
Reverence could be heard in Rook’s voice, soft and barely above a whisper
(which caused your brows to twitch downward. For you, he seemed far too into this for your liking…).
“Your fangs, your eyes, your presence… all so captivating.”
He could feel his arm going cold, the warmth of his blood seeping out of the wound, staining his once unblemished skin with a glistening red.
With your hunger subsiding, you retracted your fangs—pulling away from his arm and licking away any lingering blood that clung to your lips. You loosened your grip, finally letting go and wiping away what remained with the back of your hand.
Face slightly flushed, ragged breath evening out, Rook silently observed your movements. His gaze lingered on the blood on your lips before drifting down to his arm.
It ached, the bite mark throbbing softly with each beat of his heart. But for Rook, the pain was secondary to the sensation coursing through his body. He flexed his fingers, studying the puncture wound, tracing the indent with curiosity.
Rook lifted his gaze, green eyes finding yours.
“Je dois dire que I expected the process to be more… unpleasant.”
Despite the blood staining his arm and the pain surely coursing through it, his expression remained one of awe, clear fascination on his features—which made you cringe.
“Your fangs… par les cieux, ils sont magnifiques!”
Like a moth to a flame, Rook stepped closer—almost as if subconsciously drawn to you, but you stepped back.
Befuddled to the core, you couldn’t help but wince at his words, so reverent to the point they were tooth-rottingly sweet. Absolutely disgusting.
A scoff escaped your lips as you straightened your posture, silently sneering at the strange man in front of you (though, as usual, the sneer didn’t faze him).
“You are a stupid human.”
Rook chuckled, a gleam shining in his gaze as he took another step closer.
“Perhaps I am. But can you blame me for admiring your fangs?”
Reaching out, his fingers hovered just above the puncture marks on his arm, tracing the wound with a feather-like touch, admiring it in every sense.
“So sharp and elegant… truly a work of art.”
The way he spoke was soft, low, and intimate—almost as if he were speaking about some treasured possession, and not your literal bite mark.
Rook’s expression remained unchanged, his attention flickering back to your tense form with the same fascination he’d had since the very beginning.
“I never knew a vampire’s fang could be so alluring.”
This man was batshit crazy!
And with that, you prepared your exit—being around this oddity was starting to become insufferable.
“I’m done with your nonsense.”
Rook, sensing your intention to flee, quickly took hold of your wrist, the surprising precision stopping you in your tracks.
“Now, now! Where do you think you’re going?”
He chided, his grip on your wrist gentle but firm.
“We’re not done yet, mon ami.”
Despite the casualness in his tone, there was a clear underlying message. Rook had just gotten a taste of nirvana—he wasn’t going to let you go that easily.
He pulled you close; even after having his blood drawn, there was still strength in his body.
“Ah… je ne me lasse toujours pas de toi. You’re not getting away from me that easily.”
You gritted your teeth, baring them—though to your absolute horror, it seemed to fuel whatever sick excitement he had.
Exasperated, you found yourself frozen in place, like a deer caught in headlights.
You were stuck with this nutcase, weren’t you?
Ignore the awkward French 🤥 I think it’s pretty clear I don’t speak it… so please bare with it! 🤞
