Don't Mess with a Mixed-race Beauty

2

Satisfied, I aimed David's wrist at the glass as he prepared a Bloody Mary for me.

After he finished making it, he respectfully handed it over to me.

"Thanks." I lifted the drink and took a satisfying sip while raising an eyebrow.

My thirst for blood was insatiable. One Bloody Mary simply wouldn't suffice for an entire night at the bar. The strong smell of alcohol mixed with various perfumes and smoke masked the scent of human blood. However, there were times when I got addicted at the bar—during those moments, I'd kiss men's necks on the dance floor to drink their blood before making them forget everything.

In this vibrant atmosphere filled with lights and drinks, no one noticed what I was doing. Thus, I spent quite some leisurely days at Green Bar without finding what I truly desired.

That night, I sat alone at the bar savoring my drink—this time it was genuine alcohol as I'd fed enough at home before coming out.

Wearing a backless black scale dress with long black hair cascading down my waist almost obscuring it, I could feel many men casting covetous glances at me, yet none dared approach me. I took a sip of my drink with a disdainful smile.

Most regular male patrons here had already fallen under my spell. There wasn't much novelty left for me anymore after such a long time without encountering any attractive men.

I planned to switch places after tonight to see if there were any men who caught my eye elsewhere.

But then my plans were interrupted by a man.

"May I buy you a drink?" A man approached from outside my line of sight.

I tilted my head slightly to look and was instantly captivated by his charm. He was incredibly handsome, resembling those from our vampire clan. Tall with sharp features, he clearly stood apart from ordinary folks.

Yet I sensed his human scent. He wasn't from my kind.

Raising an eyebrow slightly, I gestured for him to sit beside me. I never refuse handsome men.

Moreover, this attractive man stirred an unusual feeling within me.

For the first time in years, I felt butterflies in my stomach.

"Is this love?" I laughed inwardly. Perhaps I've finally found the man I've been searching for.

"I don't think I've seen you here before," I downed my drink in one go.

"Maybe it's fate," he replied with a smile that felt like spring sunshine enveloping me.

Through our conversation, I learned his name was Martin and that he worked at a research institute downtown.

I assumed he was involved in scientific research since there wasn't any biological research institute downtown.

We chatted pleasantly together.

As we drank real alcohol together and lost ourselves in each other's company.

But when I leaned closer to his neck, that moment, I realized that I wanted to drink his blood. My desire surged intensely. Abruptly pushing Martin away, I hurriedly ran outside.

Back home that night, I soaked in my blood pool leisurely while gazing at two nearly lifeless men within it—feeling no pity whatsoever.

After indulging myself with their blood, the terrifying cracks on my face disappeared while the crimson hue in my eyes gradually faded away. Breathing heavily in satisfaction, I retracted my fangs.

This time instead of saving them, I instructed my servants to dispose of those two dead bodies casually in the woods.

Little did I know that this careless mistake would bring trouble upon me.

In my haste leaving Martin behind without exchanging contact information left him lingering on my mind.

The next night came around as usual. I once again found myself at the bar.

I wore a restraint bracelet designed to suppress bloodlust—a gift from my parents when they sought help after noticing my addiction at eight years old.

I wanted to see if I'd encounter Martin again. Though honestly uncertain if I'd run into him again since yesterday was our first meeting at Green Bar. He might just be passing through. Anxiously entering that night filled with trepidation about possibly not finding him again, fearing that this one man who made me feel different would vanish without a trace.