Hi dear readers! I hope that you will enjoy this other work of mine. I have begun uploading it here now on Tapas, and will upload episodes daily until the uploads are current/up to date with the chapters I already have published elsewhere. If you don't want to wait for the uploads on here, feel free to read it on the other platforms it's listed on (Wattpad & Inkitt). In the meantime, have fun meeting this little dysfunctional, spicy party of three! Olympic Peninsula, GMU: HOKO

Bradley

The fire crackles and pops, warmth refreshing to my perpetually cold body. I wondered if I should make marshmallows, after all. Exhaling and watching the fire burn, I considered my options. They're delicious, and admittedly I've got quite the sweet tooth, but I only ever vomit up any food I consume, and I just don't feel like throwing up tonight—it's the literal worst. Fortunately, I can consume alcohol without much issue, but it doesn't have the same intoxicating effect on me as it does humans.

I drink it anyway though, because of the placebo effect.

What I'm craving most is some fresh human blood; but I've already eaten too much this month. I devoured what was left of my stash absentmindedly while binging Witcher last weekend, and that leaves me fucked until Steve makes a drop from the blood bank. I blame Henry Cavil for being too hot.

Anyway, the deer will have to do if I can find any. This season has been light for some reason, and call me old fashioned, but I enjoy hunting like a human. There's a certain challenge to taking down an animal with a rifle, although I possess otherwise unnatural advantages. I don't need a scope, and to be honest I rarely use one. Unless I'm around other humans, that is. If my patience gets the best of me I'll "cheat" and use my fangs. Till then, it's just me and the wild of the Olympic Peninsula, and it's everything I've craved. Come Tuesday I'll be as refreshed as a dead guy can get. After 600 years, I think I might've finally dialed down the key to preserving my mental health, outside of the high of gorging myself on blood, that is. I'm on top of the world after that.

Over my long life I've learned mental health is important for all creatures. It all kind of changed for me when I watched a vamp lose it about 100 years back or so, and it changed my outlook on immortality—It's worth nothing if you don't look after your mind. His name was Andre, and he threw himself outside into the sun, burning to a crisp. He didn't possess the magic I have, as I can walk in the day. I do get migraines, and you'll never catch me without my sunglasses on a sunny day, but I sure as shit won't burn. I'm just damned to walk this earth until it's ending, I suppose. I may be immortal, but I can still get depressed, so I go on mental holidays like this whenever I can. The human world is draining, inflation is at an all-time high, and they're jacking up the price of my streaming services. It's good I don't need food, because food is insanely expensive these days.

I sigh, breathing in the cold air, unsure of what to do with myself at this point. It's late, and I don't feel like hunting right now, so I guess I'll just watch the fire till it dies and head to bed.

You sleep, one may ask? Sure do.

I love to sleep. Feels fucking fantastic and it's an excellent way to pass time. I don't need to sleep, but I sure love to indulge in it, and my sleeping bag is calling. Yeah, it's all unnecessary, but I enjoy it and sleeping has become one of my favorite pastimes. Obviously I don't get cold, but sleeping bags feel nice, and I love a nice memory foam mattress. Why can't I enjoy nice things, like catching some Z's in comfort? More than anything, sleeping is a great way to curb the hunger pains. When I sleep, I sleep like the dead, pun intended, and it's the best way for me to starve without binging on the locals.

The air is fresh, bitterly cold, and all of the forest is teaming with life, moon high, a silvery glow peeking through the thick branches here and there. I can see a squirrel nest in the firs above me, and also saw a rabbit dart by about a half an hour ago. Time passes lazily by with the breeze, and I watch as the fire soon turns to nothing but glowing embers. I stamp it out, retrieve my rifle, and make my way over to the tent.

It's then I catch a strange scent on the breeze, but only for just a moment. Theres something about it that put's me on edge, makes me hungry.

It's definitely a living thing—sweet, earthy, and if a scent could have cruel qualities to it, I'd describe this one as so. I scan the woods around me, noting no human heat signatures, nor heartbeats save for those of small rodents, birds, and squirrels in the surrounding area.

Damn, whatever it was it's seemingly gone, and I'm disappointed. "Would've liked to have tasted it," I mutter to myself darkly, running my tongue across ready fangs. I let my eyes wander once more into the forest, but again, nothing.

The breeze patterns shift, and with a reluctant sigh, I slip into my tent and nestle in for the night. Time passes as it so does when one sleeps, though the concept of time feels strange, as it has no effect on me, but it passed all the same and sleep takes me immediately. What feels like not moments later, the sound of a beating heart rouses me. I jolt upright in my sleeping bag, keen ears trained on that delicious sound. It's not just any heart, though. This one belongs to what I'd akin to a human, but it's scent is something I'm not familiar with, and it's the same scent I caught on the night air before I went to sleep.

My mouth begins to salivate as I slip out of my tent. The being is close. I follow the sound of it's heart, and hide myself behind a tree. As I peek around, my hungry eyes find a figure maybe 120 feet to the right, the silvery moon illuminating it ever so slightly. It's approach is silent, and I watch in curiosity as it stops suddenly.

It has a striking pair of red eyes, and they're studying the basic knot holding my treats high up in the tree, obviously meant to keep animals out of my food and away from camp. Not that I can't handle a bear, I just don't feel like dealing with one, and it isn't bear season anyway. I'd feel terrible for eating one without a tag—sounds ironic, but I'm a conscientious vampire when it comes to the wildlife of the Pacific Northwest.

The faint sound of a knife being unsheathed shakes me from my thoughts, and I'm fascinated with how impossibly quiet the sound was—human knives are loud, this one was anything but. I continue watch with interest as my rope is cut, and the individual catches my goodies with ease. It's movements are silent, and I can't tell if it's male or female. The form is small, lean, but elegant. There's power and control behind the way it moves, and it's certainly unlike any human I've ever laid eyes upon. Humans also don't have eyes meant to capture heat as these appear to be. Insatiable hunger floods me, the softest growl of satisfaction leaving my lips as my need threatens to take control of me. I'm so fucking hungry.

The form freezes—head snapping in my direction with surprising acuity, but I know the odd's still aren't in this creature's favor. I'm a tough match, and I've yet to find an equal in a fight with anything but another vampire.

...Yet, I am astonished to observe it's head tilt, red orbs honing in on my presence, it's ears now acutely aware. Then follows the unmistakable sound of sword being drawn from sheath, and again the sound is so soft, I'm sure it'd not be audible to any ear but my own.

I can't help but grin wickedly—the scent of the humanoid filling my senses. This is what I caught on the breeze earlier. The sweetness is intoxicating with it being so near, earthiness still lingering within, but it's not the smell of dirt. It's more akin to rock, with a faint edge of sulfur that I don't exactly like. However there's a sweet spice to it, sort of like chocolate mixed with cayenne pepper. Fuck, the delicious warmth of it's life force is making me crazy, the creature's heart pumping blood efficiently as it continues it's course. The movements are fluid, controlled, like that of a lithe panther stalking it's prey, and I'm impressed.

Cruel delight fills me and threatens that I descend upon it in blind bloodlust, yet I fight my hunger to remain in control just a little bit longer. I want to see this creature up close and unharmed before I dig in. It's 20ft out now, so with one swift leap, I land soundlessly on a large branch maybe 10 feet above. From my perch I clock immediately that the creature hasn't noticed my change in movement, however it's smelling the air around it, weapons raised in readiness. It senses me, but cannot see me. Curious. Is it's vision limited? I wonder... then it dawns on me. If it's eyes can see in this lowlight, but also see heat, then it must be seeking a heat signature, and it certainly won't find one. If it's ears are seeking the sound of movement, or a eating heart, it won't find any. I've jumped out of its view, and I am dead after all—there's nothing to hear or see. I observe the outline of delicate ears, drawing up into a point on the end of each, and many gold piercings adorn them.

...Pointed.

I turn the thought over in my mind. I've run into many a Cryptid in my life, but what be this? An elf? A pleasant chuckle threatens to escape me, but I tamp it down. It's directly beneath me now, and it's then I can see the beast in full detail. It is a beast, to be sure, like me. This is no human, nor elf I've ever been aware of. There's something overtly cruel, and dangerous about its appearance, though deceptively beautiful in its own right. Dark armor protects the body, with intricate spiderweb-like designs adorning it, the armor itself is unnaturally silent and I know now must be enchanted. His steps too are silent. I possess some magic, thus can sense it and magic is definitely emanating from the creature.

Seeing it closer I certainly now believe this to be a male of it's kind. He's stunning, with delicate features, both feminine and masculine in nature. High, defined cheekbones and eyes more akin to the shape of a feline's. His hair is the purest silver, cascading down his shoulders, intricately platted and woven braids with curious little trinkets sprinkled throughout his mane, though messier bits of hair have fallen loose from what I'd suspect a lengthy travel. Smooth skin, a few shades lighter than obsidian, with what I can only describe as an indigo and purple undertone. I've never in my unnaturally long life seen anything so beautiful. It's like he was sculpted, with silver brows arched beautifully to accent his burning red eyes.

Where did he come from?

My new friend, and future meal, continues to look around with a steadied focus for I suspect what he thinks is his prey. It's a funny thought, and I catch myself smirking. Either way, I'm far too intrigued and beyond starving at this point. I can feel the saliva running down my chin, fangs dying to sink into his lovely neck. I can hear his heart pumping, beat heightened as he readies himself to fight. I'd like to play with him some, and I decide I might throw him a "bone" so to speak, just to get this party started. Feeling around in my pocket, I pull out a smooth stone I'd picked up while hiking earlier today.

Imma hit him with it.

I'll admit this is just to toy with him, and I can otherwise be far more cruel when I hunt. It's not something I'm particularly proud of depending on who the prey is, but something about this particular creature brings out every ounce of the monster that I truly am. I drop the stone from my little blind above, and watch it bounce off the top of his pretty head.

He hisses out a word I don't understand and darts sideways, raising his blades defensively. Gaze shooting upwards, his hand flies open in what appears to be a reflex so deeply ingrained, and I feel the tip of a blade whizz past my cheek, lodging itself in another tree behind me.

Impressive.

"You missed," I chided darkly, unable to stifle an animalistic growl as I dropped from the tree to face him. My new friend bares his white teeth in rage, hissing at me like a feral cat, his sharpened canines prominent. He twirls his blade in anticipation with a steadied hand and holds a dagger at the ready in the opposite. I'm pretty sure he's cursing me again in his language, while his expression is wild with bloodlust.

"What a fascinating creature you are," I purred like a madman. “Can't wait to have a taste when I've finished with you."

A wicked grin spread across his plush lips, and a deep, unconcerned chuckle rolled off him. He's understood every word I've said, and he's not afraid of me, he's excited.

This should be good.