Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Like the never ending thok, thok, thok of the metronome, delicate fingertips tap, tap, tap against rosewood. It’s not the most elegant of woods, but it’s smooth against his fingertips, and quite appealing to view in the small restaurant. The atmosphere is thick with a multitude of scents, of emotions, of auras rolling off people and filling the air. Love, lust, hatred, desire, sadness, despair, happiness, loneliness. The decadence of first love, the bitterness of a divorce, the sizzling burn of a love affair. So sweet, so exotic, so overwhelming.
Maksimilian sucks in a deep breath, eyes rolling up as lids close. It’s been a long time since he was last in civilised society. A long time since his skin felt whole, since he felt like he wasn’t covered in decay, maggots and little crawlers interested in eating what remained of his marrow and bones. He can no longer see the white of bones under slowly healing flesh. Can feel the heart beat, slow… almost nonexistent in his chest. It’s relaxing. It helps him know he’s alive once again. Even if it’s a stolen life, even though it’s late… even though he should have lived every moment of his life from his birth. A stolen life. A renegade twin. There’s a lot Maksmilian has to make right.
Drawing his lips together, the pureblood lets eyes of cerulean rest on the young male who’s spent the last few hours sending him little messages with orbs of caramel. He’s been drinking, but Maksimilian can scent the red wine in his blood, the richness and the floral bouquet that makes him almost irresistible. Rising from his seat, the blond prince tilts his head with a sliver of invitation dancing through his eyes, before he steps from the restaurant and onto the street. It’s easy to draw the mortal into the small alleyway. Even easier to have him against the wall, all hot and needy and whimpering in his ear even more he touches him.
Sanguine drips from his lips as he draws the mortal closer. Fangs slice deeper through flesh and muscle and skin. By the time he stops, lips stained red and body flush with the life-energy from the boy now slumped against the wall, Maksimilian feels much more human, much more alive. Which is more than he can say for the now slowly cooling corpse lying at his feet. Wiping his thumb across his lower lip, the once merciful and compassionate immortal steps back out into the street.
One would think it by accident that he finds himself at the threshold of a stranger’s home. But the scent that’s led him here is familiar. So familiar that his heart jerks with phantom pain, his lungs seize and he’s gripped with memories of his twin ripping his heart from his chest.
“Aleksei.”
This is his home. The home he shares with his little bitch, Dmitriy, and the little pureblood whelp he spawned. Lips pulling back in a snarl, he tests the air. Good. Dmitriy and the kid aren’t home. Neither is Aleksei… but that matters little to him. It’s not hard to slip into the house, to drop back on the couch, to fold one leg over the other…to wait.
"Hurry home… little brother."
— Withholding the strain of hunger is a fickle little thing. But he has done well in the past few weeks, when time has failed to present itself properly. When hunting has been out of the question. Things are changing, they are changing quickly and his mind is filled with overwhelming thoughts of family and work. A combination most foul, since his work isn’t on the friendly side. Something his children, nor his closest man, have been informed of. Not in honest truth and proper words. He’s too secretive, too meticulous about the way he moves through the city unseen, to ever reveal the secret behind his success and his constant flow of money. It’d be a shame, should he have his business uncovered, should he have to suffer justice from those who wouldn’t be able to understand a single thing, not a word, of what a great service he was doing the human society by keeping his own kind occupied; away from open streets.
The mere thought makes him sigh, as he steps out of his car, closing the door behind him with ease. The thud echoes through the empty parking garage, and he’s surprised to see it empty. It isn’t that late, is it? His brows furrow for a moment, though he shakes his head very soon. It is none of his concern, nothing he has to think of. He is alone and that is that. It’s the way he expected it to be. Alisa has been dropped off at Alexis’, for a night of sisterly bonding and Aleksei is content with finding his home empty upon returning for a long day. Even though the ache of his love’s absence would still be as prominent as ever. It causes yet another sigh to depart from his lips, fingers dragging through blond strands of hair as he leans against the side of his white sports car. It makes him hesitate, the sudden bout of loneliness rising within his chest, makes him grimace because he’s not supposed to care this much, not supposed to be affected by emotion as much as he is. But when it comes to the devotion and love he feels for his family, it’s hard not to.
” Snap out of it, Aleksei. “
He smirks to himself, pushes back from the vehicle and walks slowly though the emptiness of concrete spaces, moving slowly until his presence dissolves into thin grey mists, leaving behind a strong scent of vanilla. It’s an appreciated ability, to teleport from one place to another, and when he reappears in his hallway, he’s sill more than calm. At least until he takes his first inhale. He freezes in less than two seconds, braces himself and grits his teeth. Because it’s strangely familiar, the way the scent nestles into his senses and roots itself in the depth of his chest. The way it makes the hairs on his neck bristle. He knows, he knows the moment it strikes him and it almost makes him cringe, as frustration begins to boil in his veins.
But he remains still until he breathes calmly again, stands frozen upon polished flooring for several long seconds before moving soundlessly through his own home, He’s cautious, with everything he does, with where he keeps his amber hues. They scan every shadow, every corner of his home, centimeter by centimeter the further he gets and when he finally spots the crown of blond, decorating his twin brother’s head, he stops. It seems quite unbelievable, that he’d be sitting there, fully alive, But even so, without any legitimate explanation, he was. And Aleksei couldn’t deny it even if he wanted to.
"брат."
He spoke, almost too softly, remnants of immense loathing lingering at the tip of his tongue, dripping like poison from his lips as he eyes the frame of a man that shouldn’t be alive, that should rests soundly in his grave, many many miles away. Anger is on its rise, so is chaos. A growl is rumbling in Aleksei’s chest and elongated fangs remain bared, gleaming in the faint light the room provides.
This,
this is not supposed
to be.