by Parker Marlo
My survival demands blood, but it’s not all I crave. I crave endless kisses that last all night, the anticipation, the slow building of passion. A desire amplified by my affliction but that has haunted me always.
Had it not, I wouldn’t have been damned to walk this earth until the second coming. Damned to tenuous liaisons with other corrupted souls and counterfeit intimacy with mortals who fail to truly see me.
Is that why I sought out the priest—the desperation of the damned? No matter the reason, I regret approaching the one man who has come close to penetrating the secret I have guarded for centuries, even if he cannot see what I really am.
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