My Annoyingly Handsome Vampire

Chapter 2

12:00AM.

The air in the Raville Penthouse ( Xeron's humble abode) didn't move. It never did at this hour. 80 floors up, the city below was a circuit board of light, and the only sound was the faint hum of the climate system and his own breathing.

Then the air split.

Xeron hit the marble floor on both knees. The impact cracked through the room like a gunshot, but he made no sound. He never did.

Pain came next.

It started at the base of his skull, cold and sharp, like a blade being drawn. Then it dragged down, vertebra by vertebra, until it settled in his chest and squeezed. His vision tunneled. Copper filled his mouth.

Blood.

It ran from his nose in two thick lines, black in the moonlight cutting through the floor-to-ceiling windows. It dripped onto the white marble. One drop. Two.

400 years.

It still felt like the first time.

"12am," he whispered to the empty room. His voice was rough, unused. "Right on time."

His hands were shaking.

He hated that.

Lord X didn't shake.

Boss X didn't bleed.

The man who built VALOR from nothing with a name they used to spit at didn't show weakness.

So he controlled it.

One blink.

He teleported.

The bathroom was cold. Always cold. He gripped the edge of the sink, staring at the man in the mirror. Red eyes. Pale skin. Jaw so tight it had to hurt. Blood was already drying under his nose.

Cold water.

White towel.

Wipe.

Again.

Until the sink was spotless and his face was a mask again. The mask of a CEO. The mask of a king.

A soft knock at the door.

"Sir?"

Butler Larson. 60 years of service. The only human alive who knew what lived behind the title.

Xeron didn't turn. "I'm fine. Leave."

"Sir, medical-"

"Leave, Larson."

Silence. Then the sound of retreating footsteps. Loyal. Quiet.

Xeron exhaled and let his forehead rest against the cool mirror for exactly three seconds. No more. Then he straightened.

He walked to the window. Raville stretched out below him, endless. People down there were sleeping. Eating. Fighting with their landlords. Living without a curse that ripped them open at midnight.

Somewhere down there, a girl he hadn't met yet was going to ruin all of this.

He could feel it the way he felt storms coming. A shift. A scent he hadn't caught yet but would.

His mother's voice, old and tired, came uninvited. _"They'll call you slave son, my love. Don't you ever let them see you weak."_

He pressed his palm to the glass. It was cold.

"Not yet," he told the no one in particular"Not now."

The pain receded, leaving behind only exhaustion and the familiar ache behind his eyes. By 12:07AM, Lord X was standing. By 12:10AM, Boss X was checking emails.

No one would ever know.