Alpha's Substitute Lover

Blood

The sweet blood surged into my mouth, throat, body, cells, and brain, all thanking me for my actions. He struggled for a few moments, reaching for the shotgun in the passenger seat, but he failed. He stared at me in terror, even in death.

Jack had awakened by now, thinking we had arrived home. However, he received a fierce blow from the water bottle I had, almost fracturing his skull—my strength fueled by that blood.

My entire body, every muscle, was awakened. Every cell of mine was an abyss—I wanted more! I dared not drink Jack's blood again; I still had some humanity left, unable to kill without remorse like a bloodthirsty monster. But what Jack's uncle called "traffickers" could be dealt with; they were heartless.

Deciding to spare him, I was sated and less ravenous. Jack should be grateful to his uncle for his continued existence.

Uncertain of where to go, I stared blankly into the rearview mirror. I couldn't drive away in this car; Jack would discover the blood-drained corpse when he woke up, likely reporting it to the police. There might even be some supernatural eradication team investigating the car, potentially leading them to me.

Looking at the desolate landscape outside, I considered two options—returning to the basement of that house or searching for others of my kind. But who among my kind would believe I'm a vampire? I couldn't heal myself, my wounds still ached, and I could walk in the sunlight. Among my kind, this was a troublesome situation.

Being a vampire was troublesome, and as a human, it was equally challenging. However, I had no intention of returning to that abandoned house or continuing to sleep.

If I wanted to find other vampires, it would be wise to locate a trafficker, one who collaborated with vampires.

As the day darkened, gray clouds rolled, and the car interior became unusually hot. I walked for a while, feeling the need to get some fresh air, and once I stepped out, I didn't want to get back in.

I walked a distance, realizing I was heading back toward that house. With nowhere else to go and a light rain starting, where else could I go?

Soon, Jack would wake up, or someone would find the car. I regretted not killing him, but if given another chance, I would spare him; otherwise, I'd regret it.

I had no intention of going back to the car. Jack would likely point his shotgun with silver bullets at me. I was confident in my ability to move in sunlight, but I couldn't guarantee against silverware, especially when regular bullets could easily kill me.

Seeing those painted walls again, the rain intensified. I didn't want my "new" clothes to get wet. The remaining stretch, I ran.

The feeling of having no family, especially not knowing who my family was, and uncertain if this damned house was my home, was unpleasant. I closed my eyes, but my mind remained blank.

I was done for—an unfortunate vampire who could withstand sunlight but not heal.

After spending some time in the dark house, I grew thirsty again. If I couldn't recall anything, I planned to go to the basement under the swimming pool, sleep there until I figured out a plan.

Next, I intended to search the house for survivor items resembling my clothes. Perhaps there would be clues about my forgotten past.

I guaranteed this house was once the wealthiest in the entire town, maybe even the state. Although it now lay in disrepair, surrounded by broken walls, an abandoned mansion in a desolate place, the numerous frames of oil paintings, porcelain, incense burners, and various items, albeit mostly unrecognizable, still exuded the fragrant scent of agarwood and the aromatic remnants of Damascus spices. These relics, like the gold-stamped, hard leather-bound ancient books in the study (only a few still readable), hinted at the house's former opulence.

Despite its current state, the house retained a fragrance of wealth. Prosperity always fades; I wasn't surprised, only lamenting. I viewed it as the downfall of an impoverished aristocrat—an outsider's history, which it should have been.

Having no memories made it easier. Perfect!

Who cared if this house once belonged to me?

It didn't matter; I slept well. This beautiful mansion couldn't match the velvety bottom of a small coffin in the basement.

Everyone ends up in a coffin. So, I didn't feel sorry for this house.

When the rain lessened, I descended into the pool, which had accumulated some water. I knew there was a drainage system below. Crouching down, I opened the manhole. Just as I went in, I deeply admired my actions. I heard a car sound within five seconds, followed by hurried footsteps and commotion. I bet it was Jack and his friends.

Sneaking into the underground basement where the coffins were kept, I worried they might find it eventually. I felt afraid. Still, I had slept here for so long without being discovered; it was unbelievable. But I was content here, feeling safe.

The coffin had a velvet cushion. It was comfortable to lie inside. I closed the lid, imagining myself as one already dead—a vampire. Suddenly, I felt a crumpled paper; it was there in the gap between the cushion and the coffin.

I was excited and nearly jumped. I pulled out the paper and unfolded it in the darkness. Using my vampire abilities, I easily read the elegant cursive handwriting. It seemed to be from a man, probably with considerable strength: "Don't forget the Haxi New Garden in Las Vegas. — Your father."

Departing from Los Angeles, California, on Interstate 15, I headed north and reached the city that never sleeps—Las Vegas, located in the Nevada desert.

The funds came from a pickpocket who often operated on the subway. Disgusted by the scar behind his ear, I killed him. To prevent his wife from grieving alone, I killed her too, sating myself before leaving.

I arrived in Las Vegas overnight, facing a curfew for minors. The enforcement officers wanted proof that I was over 18, which I didn't have—what did I have besides outdated clothes that didn't fit into the city of gambling? My money was gone! My youthful appearance might have been my only advantage; otherwise, no one would stop me.

The officers were ready to take me in. She was a detestable old woman. I lured her into a dim alley, drained her blood. This vibrant metropolis made finding a dim alley quite challenging! Due to the curfew, I had to approach a kind-hearted family to gain sympathy. Typically, compassionate elderly people took in lost children or penniless youths. Being both homeless and broke, I made myself look as pitiful and helpless as possible, wearing my dirty old clothes.

After countless rejections based on my ghastly complexion, an elderly woman took me in. She even provided clothes worn by her granddaughter and let me sleep in her granddaughter's bed. Sadly, this kind lady wore a troubled expression; her children had joined the supernatural eradication team, or perhaps as retribution, her granddaughter was abducted by traffickers and remained missing.

"Creatures will seek revenge; humans should not be so ignorant to monopolize the supernatural. They crucified three thousand elves in Brussels, executed six vampires. I was so scared I lost my remote for two weeks. But those scenes kept replaying in my mind."

"Lady, do you think supernatural beings should survive, even if it means risking your life?"

"They have the right to live, not be deprived of life. If humans can't forgive the different, one day they won't tolerate the same."

I admired the noble soul of this lady, who unknowingly harbored a vampire. She sheltered a stranger—me. She was left with no knowledge of my existence. She cooked smoked meat for me, her hunched back appearing the most beautiful to me.

Bright people enclosed in almost rotting souls—I had seen too many. Their blood was nauseating. But this lady, her soul emitted a unique fragrance, making me long to embrace her. A demon stood beside me, waiting for me to rush over, tear apart the old lady's throat, and feast on her exquisite blood. The demon would consume pure souls.

"You don't have to bother; I'm not hungry at all."

"You're so thin; eating a bit more won't hurt. Do you want pepper?"

"Yes." It slipped out almost automatically, and I felt sorrow for having such thoughts of killing.

She served me the smoked meat with freshly toasted bread and orange juice. I devoured it without regard for etiquette. I needed to divert my attention from the desire to drink her blood. The food I chewed felt like wax; it had no taste. I wasn't criticizing the lady's cooking, but rather the vampire's altered sense of taste. Unintentionally, I fixated on her again.

No!

I mentally screamed at myself, desperately wanting to slap myself.

Enough!

Far too much!

I had killed so many and drunk so much blood—wasn't it enough?!

The food I swallowed seemed to churn in my stomach, and I took a sip of orange juice, feeling nauseated. I heard the rumbling in my stomach, the friction of chewing the smoked meat, and my body rejecting human food.

"Child, what's wrong? Your complexion is terrible. Is it the food?" Concern filled the air as the kind lady approached, her blood scent drawing nearer.

No! Don't come near me!

Stop getting closer!