Chapter 2

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Kris shudders, body inwardly convulsing and suddenly overwhelmed with a sensation of uncontrolled thirst.

‘I’ve been an idiot. This stupidly arrogant pride of mine will eventually kill me, I swear.’

The dull ache at the back of his throat itches; the more he tried not to think about it, the larger the pain spread.

‘I need to feed soon… Blood. Food… Human…’

Shaking out of his reverie and reminding himself of where he was, he fixes his vision on the smooth table counter before him, forcefully urging the ache in his throat to fade away. And just as he thinks that he had his temptations under control, a sudden movement by his side breaks his concentration.

The waiter jumps with a sharp shout when Kris grabs his outstretched arm, the coffee cup in his hand landing on the table in a clumsy, messy manner.

“Sir, your coffee…?” the waiter murmurs. Nervousness, uncertainty, caution; it outlined his body posture and voice.

Quick to regain his senses, it only takes Kris a split second to make sure his grip wasn’t too harsh for the frail human arm. But it also only took a split second for him to feel the blood that carried through the veins under his palm.

“Right. Thank you.” The words came out in a strangled tone. Kris’s eyes lock onto the bare expanse of the waiter’s neck; he could hear the blood being pumped around under the thin membrane. His throat dries, the vampire instincts awakening rapidly with the scent of human clinging to him; drawing him in and drowning any rational decisions.

“Sir…?”

Kris realizes he still hadn’t let go of the waiter when he feels the arm in his grip tense, the muscles on alert as it tries to fight against Kris’s inhuman strength. Slowly trailing his gaze upwards, Kris is met with a pair of deep brown orbs, clear and twinkling with suspicion and a growing sense of fear. Kris watches mutely as an involuntary shiver runs through the waiter’s body.

‘One bite won’t hurt… right?’ Kris’s tongue darts out, his lips in a daze as his eyes trace down to the waiter’s neck. The throbbing of his throat amplifies as he imagines kissing the skin, that familiar sweet scent of human flesh engulfing him. He pictures sinking in his fangs right along the arch where the neck meets the shoulder, red human blood quenching his craving.

And just as he was about to put pressure in his hand to pull the waiter closer to him, a gush of fresh air whips through the café with the opening and closing of the front doors. But that moment was enough for Kris to snap back to reality. He blinks, once, twice, and quickly looks up to the waiter, who was frantic with confusion and oblivious of the internal conflict Kris had over his feeble life.

“Sorry. I was going to ask you something, but forgot,” Kris summarizes, flashing a smile with a slight tilt of his head. He inwardly sighs with relief when the waiter nods his head in a daze. Letting go of the arm, with some reluctance; he bids thank you to the puzzled waiter and picks up his cup of coffee; trying desperately to not breathe through his nose in the instance that the lingering human scent might affect his thirst once again.

“That was some crazy control, Lord Moir.” A young youth hums, taking a seat across from Wufan with no given invitation.

Kris scowls, holding the coffee close to his face; inhaling the rich aroma to block out any other scents. His thirst was temporarily forgotten at the sudden encounter with yet another familiar face.

“What are you doing here, Lord Silver.”

“I’ll call you Kris, if you call me LuHan,” Lord Silver offers, rosy lips spread in a warm smile. His ash brown hair was sleek and soft, as warm brown hues li