In the Darkness of a Mind

  Propped up on one elbow, he is gazing down on his lover beside him.
His hand is tracing long, leisury strokes up and down her arms, around and over her breasts and down to her stomach.
In his mind, each stroke became a shallow cut, just deep enough to make her bleed.

  He imagined himself licking along each and every line, making sure to get all the blood, before claiming her mouth in a breath-taking kiss.

  In his mind, she was moaning in pleasure.
In reality, she didn't know of his deep, dark passion for shallow cuts and blood; didn't know that she was just the next person in a long line of lovers who would receive those cuts, over and over again until she would die.

  She was just as disposable as the rest of them, and just as disposable as those who would come after her.
Had she known, she would never have agreed to go out with him, never become his lover.
Oh, but she would have died the same way anyway. For once he finds himself a victim, he never let it go.

  He has killed at least five people in each state and country, both those which exists now and ceased to exist many centuries ago.
No one has ever escaped him, no one has ever suspected him, no one has ever gotten close to the truth about him.

  He is as fluent and immortal as time itself. He can't change the way he looks, only the colour of his hair.
He doesn't need to, for he never visits any place connected to a case or victim until at least four decades have passed; always making certain to stay clear of suspicion.

  He doesn't know how old he is, only that he looks to be in his mid- to late twenties, but he is far, far older than that; centuries, millennia even.

  He has witnessed the rise and fall of empires and the only thing he is certain of is that he is the only of his kind, so he will continue to watch empires and kingdoms and countries rise and fall.

  He had exploited each and every one - for it made an easy hunting ground.
So easy to leave the victim in the woods, to make it look an animal attack - or that of a monster, like werewolf, so easy to leave the body with puncture marks on their necks to make it seem the work of a vampire.

  In this modern time it is both easier and harder to find victims. Surveillance, telephones, gps; all innovations which makes it easier to take someone away should they be unwilling.

  But he has come close to perfection of it now, for it makes it easy for him to train on getting better at it.

  The street urchins are the easiest; no one will notice they're gone.
But the sweetest taste comes from the rich, those well-guarded, those who take more work.

  This one is.
The daughter of a well-known drug dealer, she always keeps her body-guards with her.
They have never seen him, so they wouldn't be able to recognize him if it had come to that

  But now he is in control.
They are stationed outside the house and will escort her home in half an hour.
The next day however, they won't escort her home.

  He will take care of them, and then start his slow, sensual torture of her, taking his time to enjoy her; the taste of her blood, the sounds she'll make and the pretty scars which will cover all surfaces of her skin.

  He hopes she'll last, for after he had a taste of her blood after she managed to cut herself on a piece of paper, he has grown rather fond of the taste of her blood.

  For now, he'll enjoy the feel of her dark, perfect skin and the way her body moves against his.
Tomorrow, the true pleasure will begin.