[M] Blood Lust { KyoY8 & Breaking Point }

[KyoY8]

This thread is rated M for Mature
It may contain adult themes including but not limited to violence, blood, coarse language, sensual situations and drug use. They are intended for Mature audiences. Read on at your own discretion.

Lucas; A tall thin man, his hair a bright blonde, and his eyes a brilliant blue. He stood in the most comfortable bath robes, looking out of the penthouse suite, of the most famous Las Vegas hotel; the Aria. All around the lavish suite lay the remains of numerous alcohols, scattered class a drugs, not to mention one or two women who lay naked and either unconscious or asleep. He scratched his head, which was pounding, his stomach was in knots. He turned around and looked in disgust at the women, with whom he had spent the night. "Alright, get the fuck up and get out." He clapped his hands around them. He walked into the bathroom where he popped several pills into his mouth, knowing that it would cure his headache.

He lit up a cigarette and took in a deep breath.
He both hated the life he had come to inherit, and he loved it at the same time. He had inherited most of his money from his father who was an unjust man who owned the casinos in Las Vegas, he never needed to lift a finger, his wealth was handed to him on a plate. Anybody that came up against Lucas tended to end up six feet under the following day, mainly at his fathers' orders. However not everything was roses for him, and his father - despite ending any conflict - hated his Son. Providing him with as much money that he could spend, his father hoped he'd put his son into an early grave.
Lucas' mother had 'left' when he was born, but Lucas wasn't naive about the lies his Father fed him.

To occupy most of his time, Lucas pursued a hobby, and that was being a stage magician, playing at the casinos that his father owned. Not only was he good, he was damned good, and he enjoyed watching the crowd's amazed faces. It was his life; prep for a gig, do the gig, then to indulge in everything that was possible, anything put in his hand he'd take it. He knew he was good at nothing else, and he knew that his hobby, and job would never go further than Vegas.

Once every month Lucas would lock himself in his hotel room for a week and talk to nobody, drinking, snorting, and making an unholy mess of the suite. Wallowing in the pain, that would get to him; he was nothing, and he would amount to nothing in the world, his death would mean nothing.
It was on one of those weeks that he got a visit from a boy with white hair and emerald like eyes; a boy that would change his life.

~~~

Lucas was draped across a lavish sofa, bottle of gin in hand and a cigarette screwed into his dry lips. His eyes were bloodshot, and had bags under them, his hair and clothes were unkempt. He had thought about moving but the alcohol and drugs only caused his stomach to turn at the thought of it.
It was moments in deep thought wallowing in self pity at his life that he heard tiny footsteps and a thud at his door.
"Fuck off!" He shouted out, after a coughing fit and almost dropping his cigarette.
There was a tiny knock, a desperate knock.
"Please let me in, he's going to kill me!" a tiny voice spoke; male and young from what Lucas gathered. At the word of 'kill' his body slowly began to fill with adrenaline, and he threw himself off of the couch, staggering to the door and opening it harshly.
Lucas looked out and saw a boy not younger than 14, beautiful white hair stained with blood, and bright green captivating eyes that were filled with fear. Lucas found himself staring into the kid's eyes for a moment and the fear in them pumped the adrenaline faster around his tattered veins.
Footsteps were heard, heavier and around the end of the corridor, a man that Lucas didn't expect to see, or even want to see; tall man aged at least 60 hair jet black and thinning, face like old leather, and mean eyes. In his hands a SMG packed with a silencer.
The boy quickly slipped in behind Lucas for protection. "Father, the fuck you doing trying to kill a child?" Lucas snapped against his father.
"Move and let me kill that monster Lucas, we can talk about it afterwards you pisshead." He growled aiming the gun around Lucas to see if he could even wing the boy.
"I've put up with enough of your shit, if you want to come into this room you'll have to kill me too." The adrenaline coursing through him made his heart beat almost three times as fast, and even Lucas was afraid of the man before him. Especially when he pointed the gun at him.
"You don't think I'll end your miserable life? That kid is a monster and he needs to be turned cold." His father almost spat at Lucas.
Lucas didn't answer him, he simply lifted his hand which still had a bottle of gin attached to it and gave him the middle finger.
The man pulled the trigger and shot several bullets into Lucas' shoulder and stomach causing Lucas to fall to the floor dropping the bottle and the cigarette with it. Lucas remained on his knees, gritting his teeth, spitting out blood. "Asshole." Lucas coughed, and as his father advanced the kid ran and hid.
Lucas pulled an ace from his sleeve and flicked it hard with almost the last of his might into his father's left eye.
His father screamed in pain and placed a few more bullets into his son. "Your mother was a whore!" He barked and kicked him to the ground and unloading the rest of the clip into the kid, who also fell to the ground pumping out blood.
He then wiped down the gun and placed it in Lucas' hand before leaving the scene.

Lucas held onto life for no specific reason, waves of cold spread through his body and he eventually passed out looking at the pale and bloodied form of the child he had failed to save, just before he passed out altogether, he swore he could see him move.

The boy did in fact move, not only did he move, he stood, looking at his bloodied clothes.
"Sorry, I thought he was packing better bullets." The boy spoke to the unconscious body of his savior. "I suppose I should save you though for that valiant effort." The boy lifted his wrist to his own mouth opening it with sharp teeth and allowing blood fall into Lucas' mouth. He allowed the blood to flow for roughly two hours before he stopped.
"Have fun when that kicks in." The boy told him before leaving the room a mess.

[Breaking Point]

It was her second day on the job; her wide-doe- eyed expression made it obvious that she wasn't sure what she was supposed to be doing. She just cleaned and cleaned a lot.
She had been bored where she was, ready for a change, and now she wasn't so sure how living in a city that thrived on prostitution and elopements would change her. The party life was wild and extreme while she was more mellow.
Even worse, she didn't enjoy gambling. It was easy for her to score some free booze though she didn't plan on doing that awesome.
She discovered that the men would easily get in bed with her, but she always avoided that because she knew STDs were rampant in the city. It was also partly because she wanted a relationship that meant something. A normal relationship, but every STD-free man that wanted a relationship seemed too broken to fix or partied too hard to remember his problems.

Maybe Violet's problem was that she was boring, and moving to a big city wasn't going to change that. It was an hour after the boy left Lucas' room that she was finishing her shift. Her last room was the room next to Lucas.
It was trashed of course, with gorgeous dresses littering the floor. Of course there was a note that requested for every dress to be dry cleaned. "I guess every famous person feels the need to trash their place with something," she murmured, fixing her hair once more in a pony tail and then she got down to work, hanging the clothes up on her cart outside the room.

[KyoY8]

Lucas had fevered dreams; bloody, erotic, and then a little more bloody. He woke in a fevered sweat.
His head didn't pound, it thundered. His mind reeled over what had happened, glancing at the broken bottle of gin in a pool of red, which made him hungry. He remembered the bullets and the pain from the bullets, however that was gone now, and looking down at his torso, he could see the red of all the blood, he could see the holes that the gun had made. He stood to his feet all of a sudden and walked around the house. There was a child, he had seen the cold body of a child. He couldn't see him at all, had his father taken the boy's body away, or had it all been a figment of his imagination, no child, no father, he had just taken the gun and opened it up into his own body; which seemed ridiculous. He looked in the mirror and shook his head, he seemed paler than usual.
Lucas looked down at his sticky clothes, and his stomach growled. He shed his clothes and threw them into the bin, checking his body all over, but no sign of the bullets at all. Signs of blood, he shook his head and stepped into the shower, turning the heat almost all the way up, his hands shook slightly trying to figure out what had happened. The heat really didn't seem to bother him, and after he was done he felt slightly better; cleaner.
He looked at the blood and broken glass. The cleaners would be around soon, it wasn't the worst that they would have had to clean in his room before, but blood was a bitch to get out and he felt a pang of guilt. He picked the glass up, wrapped in only a towel, then also picked up the empty shells of the bullets and threw the gun into the bin, he wasn't a fan of guns. His head still pounded and he picked up some asprin and grabbed another bottle of gin from the fridge, washing about four down with the alcohol.
He licked his lips, there held a bitter taste in his mouth, not from the alcohol, he was used to that. It was almost like he had spent the night vomiting or something. He quickly brushed his teeth to try and cleanse his mouth of the foul stench from his mouth.

[Breaking Point]

She eventually finished that room, and she looked around, her entire body exhausted from all the cleaning- the ridiculous amount of trash. "I hate these stupid rich kids, all spending daddy's money on shit, just trashing the place," she murmured, locking the door back and the last room. The one that she was told to 'try and clean it, well just get started on it.'
It was Lucas.
Stepping ever so lightly toward the door, she cleared her throat and raised her fist. She knocked three times, chiming, "Room service here to clean your room."

Though she was calm, Violet had some gut wrenching feeling that something was wrong, that she should run, run far away, flee from the city and never return. Something within her begged her to leave, told her that whatever was on the other side of that door would haunt her life forever.
For some odd reason, her family's wise old tale played in her mind.

Long ago in Baden Baden, Germany, a small town nestled at the foot of the Black Forest lived A large family who were once common laborers. After a long time working as lumberjacks, the men of the family established their own personal company, bringing in logged trees from the Black Forest. It was a forest always rumored to be haunted, but no one was sure why....

Violet knocked again, coughing, "Room service!"

The company grew as large as companies did during the time, and lumber was being sold throughout Southern Germany and just across the border into France. It employed many young men at the time over which many young ladies swooned. Few girls could resist the strong backs and strong arms of a young lumberjack. The company had a big demand and to keep up had too shifts. Day Shift and Night shift. Only the fearless went out in the forest by night.

One of the family's next generation girl had finally come to age, fair in beauty and sweet in kindness. Ada was educated by the best, and maintained a heavy load of reading after she had finished her schooling. Reading so intently it was easy to find her reading through the night into the dawn, and it became a habit of hers. Her mother and father detested her night owl characteristics, but she continued so because it allowed her to sneak out to see the one fellow who had caught her eye.

Violet stepped back from the door. Something about her senses became intense, her adrenhaline pumping faster than she could slow herself down.

He was a vampire. Ada and Winfield fell deeply in love, telling each other secrets, all their secrets, and eventually their love was sealed when Winfield tasted of Ada's blood. He only drank a little, knowing she was scared.
She knew that all the tales of the attacks by a human beast that drank human blood was by vampires, she knew how they were so strong, their fangs extremely sharp. But when Winfield drank her blood, it didn't hurt like all of the cautionary tales.

She loved him too much, and he loved her too much, and they married to her family's disgrace. They'd hoped that she wouldn't return to a lower social class, not their eldest daughter.
She asked to become a vampire, to live her life out with him- to be strong enough to protect herself, but he wouldn't. He loved her too much to do that to her. Then again, he may have wanted her just for her savory, delicious blood.
They had a single child together before Ada was assau lted, killed by one of the beast of the nights. It was unknown whether it was Winfield or one of his fellow vampires, and soon enough the entire Vaughn family was found dead in the same fashion, completely drained of blood. This little outbreak was let the world know of the beasts that swarmed the dark in the Black Forest.

Winfield soon left town, suffering from heartbreak, and rumors swirled within vampire circles that it was really Winfield all along. Because, if he had really loved his wife, he would surely have made her a vampire to protect her, to keep her from the mercy of the vampires, but he wasn't going to protect her from himself.
Ada and Winfield's child was about 15 of the time with a dead mother and an absent father, named Stan Vaughn. He was the last of that bloodline of Vaughns. He moved far away to England, as far as he could get away from the Black Forest and Black Curse, because he knew.
He knew just how tasty his blood was, and just how loving a bite was.

The tale chilled Violet even though she knew it was just to prevent children from playing around in the dark, but there was a different truth. The tale was told so that any of that particular Vaugn bloodline would know to flee from any vampire they met because maybe, just maybe if they avoided them for long enough, and they never fell in love, they could breed out the vampire within them.
What they could never breed out was the curse.

[KyoY8]

Lucas looked over at the door, which knocked.
He groaned inwardly, at first he thought even if the girl was to report the bloody mess to the cops it wouldn't matter; his father's influence would send the cops into the 'we'll look the other way' mode.
However, his father, John, had shot him. So would they report it back to him.
Lucas knew most of the cops by first name, his father had forced him to go with him a few times on 'business trips' to create diversions. He was pretty sure he could convince any of the cops that would arrive that it was all a misunderstanding.




"Eh, okay!" He called out realising he was still in a towel, which he didn't care much, he wasn't ashamed of his body, and being even fully naked around anyone wasn't anything he was shy about, he didn't flaunt his body.
He took a deep breath and opened the door ever so gently.
"It's not what it looks like." He stated instantly, "If you want a hand just let me know and tell me what to do." He informed her. She was a new cleaner which made things worse, then again his room was always tough to clean and they always complained.
"A new girl, they probably told you all sorts about me downstairs. I won't deny it all, it's probably all true." He shrugged, he never got off to a great start with the cleaners, which was why he had gone through so many. She was cute though he gave her that.


He yawned and headed back to the bottle of gin in the kitchen, pouring a drink into a glass.
He looked at the woman tilting his head, he could hear something strange. A ticking noise maybe he thought looking around for a clock, maybe he was hung over, still doubting everything that had happened, chalking it to delusions, but he couldn't ignore the holes in his clothes, the blood scattered around the place. The ticking was loud. No it was more of a thumping noise.
"Can you hear that or is it just me?" He asked her casually.

[Breaking Point]

When Violet entered the room, her jaw dropped. "They... they said it was going to bad but..." she wasn't one to run her mouth, but there was so much she wished to say. This man in front of her was obviously a spoiled brat.
"You ever want to help the cleaners, then you shouldn't make such a mess," she told him politely, holding her tongue once more. Maybe it was a money thing and she just didn't understand. Her body still pleaded her to run, and then she saw the red on the floor.

What wasn't mentioned in the tale was that the Black Curse affected the vampire, not the Vaughn. Sure, Winfield had feelings for Ada before he tasted her blood, more than feelings even, but one taste of her special blood, and Winfield came to obsession. It was a loving obsession, but a destructive one, so when Winfield fled he went on a bloodshed massacre until he was finally captured.

This only pointed to Winfield being the bloodthirsty savage who kissed his beloved and her family in cold-hearted hunger. And the vampires loved this because whether or not it was one killer, the appearance of one killer drew the attention off them. There was no vampire hunt, not at least in the several years to come, because then it was believed that only one person could be exist as cruel as Winfield.

"I've never smelled such strong alcohol in all my life.... I used to be a bartender," she muttered, grabbing a towel from her cleaning cart. She should smell the blood, but all the alcohol overwhelmed her. On her knees, she began to soak up the blood, shaking her head. It wasn't coming up.
She shook her head. "I hear nothing..." But she did hear it- her heart pounded so fast and loud that she felt it in her ears. She gulped, touching her clean left handaround her neck to feel for her necklace, the silver one that she always wore.
She found it and returned to soaking up the stain, but it didn't seem to budge. "What were you drinking? Pinot Noir comes up much better than that-" She shook her head. "Unless it's been soaking here for several days."

Violet wasn't cut out for this job, well. She wasn't cut out for him. She poured some vinegar on the stain, letting that soak. "I doubt that you can save this wood," she sighed. then began picking up bottles, throwing them in a bag. The more she saw, the more it disturbed her and when she looked up at the man, she felt a different connection.

She thought her connection was empathy. Pulling out a pen and paper, she wrote down:
Drug abuse Hotline
865-555-7429
Alcoholics Anonymous
885-325-1294

But Violet's connection wasn't empathy at all. Before the tale of Ada and Winfield, there was another tale, one that they had both probably been told as children. Though that story was of kinder times, it set the stage for bloodshed, and it set the foundation for Ada and Winfield's own story.

Then she tore out the sheet and sat it on the cleanest part of the table. "I know that it isn't any of my business, but there's help out there if you want it. There's a rehab center just down the street too." Working at a bar she had seen the problems, so she felt such actions were required of her. "Sorry, I know it isn't my job; I'm not trying to be pushy." She brushed off her hands on another towel, sweeping broken glass into a heap.

[KyoY8]

Lucas was surprised she knocked it down to being wine and not blood.
"If I wasn't making a mess I would hardly be living. I'm always messy." He walked around picking up empty bottles of gin that were scattered around the place, and tossing them into a bin, once most of the bottles were gone, he stretched looking at the paper. "Yes, I'm aware of the place, went there a few times after my stomach had been pumped for the dozenth time." He told her and went to his room picking out clean clothes, and slipping into them.
"Told them my problems, poured out my heart, and they told me that they wanted nothing to do with me." He told her.
"Thanks for thinking of me though, little anybody else would do, but I wouldn't waste your time trying to save this lost soul." He told her almost dramatically, his performance art kicking in.
"Hopefully I'll die young, drowning in a glass container, in front of an audience." He muttered under his breath; That was his hope, he didn't want to risk growing up to be like his father. He drank, smoked, and snorted to forget everything. He groaned inwardly knowing he couldn't simply go back to any of his dealers because his father would find out. Then another thought came to him; if his father thought he was dead, then he could probably lead a new life. However, the thought of abandoning the limelight filled is stomach with a sour feeling.
The pounding noise still continued and it interrupted his thoughts, and he found himself absently searching for it.

"I wouldn't go too overboard cleaning it, I'll probably just get someone to refurnish the place." He told her, in truth it was usually what he'd do anyway if he was feeling guilty about the mess.
The odd thing was now that not only could he hear the pounding, but his mouth was almost calling out to it. He found that it got stronger the closer he got to the girl. Then he realized what it was, and he frowned at it slightly; why the hell could hear her heart beating so loudly. He looked around, and the thought of hearing her blood seemed to excite him. He turned away and walked over to the window opening it up wide.
"This place needs a little fresh air." Using small talk to try and distract him, but now that he knew what he was hearing he was drawn to it. Then over all the alcohol he smelled her, was it her perfume that smelled so sweet and inviting. He found himself stepping closer to her once again. "What perfume are you wearing?" He asked her. "It smells really nice." He complimented her.

[Breaking Point]

Sure, Violet pitied him a little, but she wasn't going to give him his own little pity party which he longed for. "Oh, so your life is that awful? Hate it so much? If you want to die young so bad then just kill yourself," she said, not cautious enough. This would be enough to get her fired if a manager overheard her.
"But you haven't just killed yourself because obviously there is something that you're looking for.... you want to be wanted isn't it? Is that why you sound so dissapointed and heartbroken that the clinic turned you down, that they thought you were a hopeless cause? Maybe because they saw your most vulnerable side and still said they didn't care?" She at least hit something on the head.

The truth of the second tale went back long before, because vampires and Vaughns had always lived intertwined. In what seemed to be the beginning of an age, a young Vaughn girl, Elyssa, was born. She wasn't that pretty, and was extremely pale. Growing up she had health issues and didn't get to play outside all the time like the other little kids. Even when she was finally strong enough to play, she found that she didn't particularly like to. Aside from the sunny summers that drained her energy, Elyssa was bullied by the other Vaughn children.

Even though she was deemed healthy by the age of 13 she still had to receive blood transfusions every other day or she would slip into an extreme sickness.
Elyssa was the first vampire, and her family didn't know it yet. Within her genes there had been a mutation, and it caused Elyssa to be outcasted from society. There was never enough love for the girl, and by the age of 20 Elyssa had discovered something that eased the pain: drinking other's blood.
It might have helped her pain, but it didn't solve her problems.

"Air isn't what's going to fix this place," she told him, picking up the towel from the stain and throwing it in the bin. The vinegar had helped a little. She cleared off his table, and swept the floor then looked at the time. She didn't have much time left. Good thing, because the drama king was pitiful and needy and draining on her. She had enough of her own problems without adopting his.

She froze, scrunching her eyebrows. "I'm not wearing perfume- and that isn't going to work on me. Again, I used to be a bartender, and I know you probably have strippers in here everyday, of course I guess there isn't much else you can do to fill the void. Because you obviously don't have any friends that really care about your welfare."
It was the harsh, brutal truth.

Elyssa had tried to search out the gypsies and the witches, anyone who might aid her in finding love, platonic or romantic. She just wanted someone to care, someone other than her parents who had 8 other children and not enough love to go around. She'd tried curses to make her family love her: her siblings, her cousins, her granparents. Yet no one did, and they didn't even know the truth yet.

Maybe the real reason her family didn't love her was because Elyssa resented them. She blamed them for her pain because all the years of bullying had taken it's toll. Even at the age of 25, she didn't accept that her family now tried and that kids could be cruel. She blamed them so harshly.
She never caused such bloodshed as would later happen, but she had her own rampage. She soon discovered that by feeding her blood to others, their blood accepted the new mutation and they became just like her. That was when she finally found that people could accept her as she was.
And though she would not die an old spinster, Elyssa's tale was far from over.

Violet looked at her watch once more. "I'm sure you don't want my speeches anymore, so you can just request not to have me anymore," she told him, pushing her cart toward the door. "They're supposed to be sending another girl by here in a bit to finish the cleaning...."

[KyoY8]

He was taken aback by the woman.
"I haven't killed myself because I have an escape." He told her sharply, the stage was his escape, to actually amaze people and see the look of wonder in their eyes. He stopped his bit of cleaning, taking a long drink. She was right of course, he had never had any friends. Any friends were scared away by his father, or they were just trying to use him.
He lit up a smoke and inhaled the dark air.
"I bet you've never lived a day in your life." He told her as she was leaving.
"Fine leave!" He shouted after her, he grabbed his bottle of gin and took a swig from the bottle.
Once she was gone he shook his head. "They always leave, everyone leaves when the curtains are drawn." He muttered angrily to himself.

He looked at the time and realised that his next show was in an hour, which filled him with a childish glee.
He began running around the place getting ready, and cleaning up his appearence, which when he went all out he cleaned up pretty well.
Every person he seemed to pass on his way down pulsed and smelled sweet.
He chalked it up to alcohol still. As he stepped on stage he looked out and felt the burning lights on him, and he did his routine, starting off with small simple tricks, but evolving them into something amazing. He picked numbers, cards, animals, and other random items from people's minds. Then his final trick was to escape the watery coffin. He looked through the audience for someone to help him tie his hands up behind his back. The dozens of people their hearts pounding. He found a willing victim from the audience who tied it just like he wanted to be tied, easy to get out of, then he plunged himself in the vat of water, his stage hands sealing it tight. Of course Lucas had a small safety switch at the bottom of the vat that nobody could see. He knew how long he could stay under water for before his breath ran out. He played about with the ties, already having them undone but simply making a show, and he could hear gasps and he could hear their blood pulsing amplified by the water. He could feel his body using up his oxygen little by little. His foot hovered over the button, and he could feel himself slowly starting to pass out, his body slowly getting looser and begging for oxygen, and that's when he pushed the button, the curtains falling as the water flooded out. He coughed up a lung of water and took several breaths for air then motioned for the stage hands to lift the curtain again were he put the show that everything was perfect, he raised his fist into the air. "Goodnight Las Vegas!" He shouted to everyone, and the applause roared through the room, then the curtains went down a final time and he coughed up another lung of water, gasping for more air.

[Breaking Point]

Maybe Violet hadn't lived a day in her life, but she was content. She checked out of her hotel job, went home and got herself fixed up. Tonight she was going to have fun- at least she told herself that. She was going out to a club with a few friends to dance the night away. Except that Violet didn't really dance. And though she tried to get her mind off the occurances involving Lucas, she couldn't. Something was peculiar about all of it.

The people that accepted Elyssa for who she were vampires, and Elyssa went on a spree of turning people into vampires, and somehow she still wasn't satisfied. Even after finally marrying, she still felt something wrong within her very existence- Her blood was not that of her Vaughn relatives. She had been different all along.
But one night, when she hungrily took a sip from her sister's neck it was all over, the begginning of the end.

The Vaughn blood was what she longed for, what her blood should have been the entire time. Something within her snapped and it was an instant obsession: how would she get more Vaughn blood.
It ended badly. She'd been drinking from her family, asking each one separately to keep her secret until one day Elyssa's cousin found fang marks in her 2 year old child.

Elyssa was burnt at the stake, her voice swirling up with the smoke a curse upon her family.
They would be forced not only to live among vampires, but to attract them.


Violet and her friends- or well, a few aquaintances- went to a club on the casino strip in Vegas. She'd just lived in the area for two weeks and yet to find the fun activities or good friends, but it was fine enough.
Her friends pulled her onto the dancefloor where she awkwardly swayed. Who was she kidding. Violet knew herself: this was not something she would ever considered fun.
What's worse is she couldn't get her mind of Lucas. She worried that maybe he would kill himself, or he would drink too much again and need his stomach pump. And this time it would be all her fault because of her harsh words.

She eventually went back to the bar, her feet aching from wearing heels. She sat on a bar stool, leaning her head against her hand. She watched the people dance, but she wasn't having a fun time at all, and nothing would help it.