CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

|•| ANDRÉ BAUDELAIRE |•|

I reluctantly ripped my fangs out of his neck, throwing my head backwards and trying to savour the taste of his blood, feeling it soothe every inch of my aching and scratchy veins. He stood still in my arms, blood oozing off his, luring me to keep drinking from him until he dropped dead, but I knew I had to keep a low profile.

I didn't want to draw attention to myself merely weeks of studying at this school. But then, the more I stared at his pale skin smeared with blood, the harder my restraint waned and I had to let him go completely. I grabbed him by the jaw, his lifeless blue eyes peering into mine.

"Get that cleaned and get out before I rip your head off your neck," I ordered, and he nodded, walking out of the bathroom.

I retrieved the bloody handkerchief I had tucked in my pocket, dabbing it on my lips to clear off any bloodstains hanging around it. I tucked it back in the pocket of my pants, fixed myself in front of the mirror and stalked out of the bath