Rewritten By Blood

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🕊️་༘࿐

𝑰’𝒗𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒂 𝒉𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔

𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝑰’𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕 𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖

— Turning Page, Sleeping At Last

Selene ran.

She didn’t know where she was going, and she didn’t care. She only knew she had to get away.

Her heels struck the polished floor as she ran, each step echoing through the halls. Her breath came in short, shaky gasps, her mind replaying the same horrifying images over and over, like a nightmare she couldn’t escape.

Drake was a werewolf.

Keiran was a vampire.

The man she almost married was a monster.

The man she couldn’t stop thinking about was something even darker.

Oh god, she thought, chest tight. What did I get myself into?

She pushed open the heavy fire-exit door and almost fell inside. The stairwell was cold and dim. Her footsteps echoed on the concrete. She slammed the door shut and leaned against it. Her legs gave out.

She slid down to the floor, shaking. They’re both not human, she thought. And they were fighting over me. Over me!

She pressed her hands to her face, trying to slow her breathing. All I wanted was revenge. All I wanted was a quiet life. How did it turn into this?

She closed her eyes, trying to calm down. Then she felt it. A cold breeze touched her skin. The smell of cedar and sandalwood filled the air, familiar and strong.

Her eyes snapped open.

Keiran stood in front of her, leaning against the opposite wall. His silver eyes stayed on her, calm and steady. His face gave nothing away, but something in his look made her stomach flip.

“We need to talk, Selene,” he said, voice low and calm. “I know you have questions.”

She turned to look at him, heart pounding. “K-Keiran…” She swallowed hard, voice shaking. “Be honest with me. Are you… are you…”

She couldn’t finish.

“I am a what, Selene?” he asked, stepping closer.

“You are… you are a vampire,” she finally whispered.

He said nothing. Just looked at her. His silence told her everything. Selene let out a shaky breath.

“You have nothing to be afraid of, Selene,” he then said softly.

“Nothing to be afraid of?” She gave a bitter little laugh, trying to sound strong. “You’re a vampire. Vampires drink blood, right?” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I think I’m going crazy.”

“Why should I trust you?” she asked, trying to hold onto her rationality. “Drake is a werewolf, and he cheated on me. What makes you different from him?”

His expression shifted. It was small, but she felt the dark feeling coming off him. “Don’t ever compare me to a dog from some insignificant pack,” he said, voice cold. “I am Keiran Draculis. I am the Vampire King.”

He stepped closer, and she could feel the heat radiating from his body. She could smell his scent, intoxicating and familiar.

He cut her off, pinning her against the door. His body pressed hard against hers. His eyes burned with need. “I am the only one who knows everything about you, Selene,” he whispered. “If you want the truth, all you have to do is ask.”

And then he kissed her.

His mouth crashed onto hers with no warning. No gentleness. Just heat and hunger and the taste of him flooding her tongue. He bit her bottom lip until it stung, then licked the hurt away. When he pulled back, a thin string of spit still stretched between their lips.

Selene’s knees nearly buckled. Her pussy clenched on nothing.

“Fuck,” he breathed against her mouth. “Your arousal. I can smell it. You’re already dripping.”

He pinned her against the door—his whole body pressed hard into hers, every hard line of him, the heat of him burning straight through their clothes. He dragged his nose up the side of her neck, breathing her in like a man starved.

“Eight hundred years,” he murmured against her skin. “I’ve waited eight hundred years just to touch you.”

Selene didn’t know what came over her. Maybe it was stress. Maybe it was how badly she wanted him as well. She grabbed his collar and yanked him back into the kiss.

And that was all he needed.

Keiran's tongue shoved into her mouth—deep, wet, claiming—fucking her mouth with long, filthy strokes. He licked the inside of her cheeks. Sucked her tongue. Bit her lip again until she whimpered. Their mouths moved slow and dirty, and the soft, wet sounds of it filled the cold stairwell.

His hands roamed her body, gripping her waist, her hips, fingers digging into soft skin. Then he shoved her skirt up around her waist in one rough move.

His palm slid up her bare thigh. Higher. Until his fingers brushed the soaked crotch of her panties.

He growled low when he felt her—the cloth stuck to her pussy lips, warm and slick, a dark wet patch already spreading.

“Are you this wet for me, Vaelra Mea?” he whispered against her lips. “Your panties are soaked. I can feel your juices through the fabric.”

He pushed her panties aside.

His finger slid straight between her folds, coating itself in her thick juices. He spread her open with two fingers, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to feel every slick inch of her. Then he found her entrance and pressed the tip against it. He felt the heat of her. Felt how her cunt fluttered and tried to suck him in.

Selene gasped, nails biting into his arms. “Oh, K-Keiran…” she moaned, eyes fluttering shut. “Your finger… it feels so hot…”

“Yes like that, use your words,” he said softly. “Tell me what you feel. Tell me what you want.”

“P-Pleasure me,” she begged. “Please, Keiran I want your fingers. Put them in.”

He kissed her deep—and pushed a finger into her dripping hole. Her tight walls sucked him in at once. Hot. Slick. Greedy. Pulsing around him like she never wanted to let go.

A rough groan tore out of his throat. “Fucking hell,” he breathed. “So tight. So fucking wet for me.”

He added a second finger, stretching her open, curling them deep until they dragged against that soft, swollen spot inside her. His thumb found her clit and pressed tight circles into it, and the wet, filthy sound of his fingers fucking her echoed off the concrete.

Her hips rolled to meet every thrust. Juice ran down his wrist and dripped onto the floor.

“Ahh, Keiran,” she moaned, head falling back against the door. “Deeper… please, deeper…”

He latched onto her neck, sucking hard, teeth scraping her skin. His fingers drove deeper, faster, curling on every pull-out, until her thighs were shaking and her breath came in broken little pants.

“I’m so close,” she gasped. “Please… don’t stop…”

He pulled back just enough to look at her—silver eyes burning, jaw tight with hunger.

“Then come for me, Vaelra Mea,” he growled. “Soak my hand.”

And she did.

The orgasm hit her like a wave. Her body shook violently. Her cunt clamped down on his fingers in hard, pulsing waves, squeezing so tight it almost pushed him out before sucking him back in.

“Ohh… Keiran!” she screamed, voice echoing off the concrete walls.

Thick wetness flooded his hand, soaking his fingers, dripping between them onto the floor. She buried her face in his neck, moaning his name over and over as wave after wave tore through her.

Her legs gave out.

But his arms caught her before she could fall.