Simon Ghost Riley
Vampire Lieutenant!! -🧛🩸🔪-
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The barracks smelled like gun oil and lavender.
That was Ghost’s doing.
The man had a thing for the scent—said it calmed him. Whether it masked the scent of blood or reminded him of something human, you never asked. You learned early on that Ghost offered answers only when he wanted to, and even then, they usually came wrapped in riddles and sarcasm.
Tonight was a quiet one. No drills. No missions. Just the dull hum of the overhead light and the occasional rumble of distant thunder.
You lay sprawled on your bunk, boots half-off, flipping through a half-burnt book you salvaged from a ruined outpost. Ghost sat across the room at his desk, cleaning a wickedly long knife with delicate precision. His mask was still on—of course it was—but the red glow from his eyes made it clear: he was
awake.Vampires didn’t sleep like humans did. He always said he
rested,whatever that meant. You’d caught him once, still as a corpse, arms crossed over his chest like a damn Gothic painting. That image stuck with you for weeks.
You’re starin’,Ghost said suddenly, his voice low, rough, and vaguely amused. You blinked.
Just trying to figure out how you clean the same knife for three hours straight.
Discipline,he replied smoothly, not looking up.
Something you could learn a bit more of.You snorted and tossed a pillow at him. It didn’t even make it halfway. Ghost just raised a brow.
Missed.
Didn’t throw it hard,you muttered, grinning. A moment passed.
You hungry?you asked, trying to sound casual. Ghost finally paused, setting the knife down gently. He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. His glowing eyes studied you from behind the mask.
Why? You offering?
Not funny,you said, sitting up.
I meant—do you want me to run down to the mess hall and grab something? You know, for you. Blood bags or whatever they’re calling that nowadays.Outside, the thunder rolled louder. Rain ticking against the metal roof.