My dream is to walk into a library one day. Take a book I wrote off the shelf. It will have yellowed pages with stains, spilled water, dog ears and stains. I want my books to be well loved. Carried around, part of someone's life for a while.
Exert from my novel (trigger warning, gore, vampirism)
The extraction of human blood is a delicate process. So much muscle, bone and vein to consider. One aims to consume the most, with as little effort as possible (as it is rather unpleasant to be fondling a random creature’s neck with one’s mouth for an extended period of time). It is of the wide assumption the ordeal would leave two delicate puncture wounds. It is rather the opposite you shall find. First and foremost, it takes a few tries to get it quite right and achieve a steady stream, by the time the ordeal is done, the victim’s neck is typically left covered in multiple gashes and punctures, as well as heavily bruised and unfortunately slobbered on. But why the neck? Rather cliché and rather uncomfortable for all parties (not to mention unnecessarily erotic). It does not necessarily need to be the neck, really anywhere major blood vessels near the skin. Victormira personally opted for the neck, finding it quick and convenient. Really, such habits are based on individual preference.
Victormira had known many with all sorts of feeding habits, some preferred to artificially extract the blood, finding the sweat and strange substances over the human creature’s skin to be rather off putting. Others you might find are rather infatuated with the process of it, artfully seducing the human creature, gaining its trust then draining it dry. Victormira personally could imagine very little worse than spending an extended period of time around a human creature, nor did she particularly care to make the “exchange” personal.
Victormira, unlike many of her kind, did not bite to kill. Though she didn’t particularly care for the individual lives of her suppliers, these days the killing of a human creature is such a nasty affair. Back in the good old days human creatures dropped dead all the time on the streets and nobody particularly called all that much (alas! in the modern era a dead human creature warrants an entire parade and marching band, with each parade having its own marching band and each marching band having its own parade).
Obviously, she was more than capable of the carrying out of murder, however she did not care for the effort. The strategic hiding of a body begins to lose its thrill after many a century of doing.
Consequently, as Victormira laid the unconscious human creature across her lap, she carefully considered exactly where to bite. She traced an imaginary cross with her finger along the side of the neck, well familiar with the mechanics of the process by now. She was careful as she bit down, if biting to kill one needs only to prioritize the accessing of blood, but Victormira must be wary.
Human creatures are awfully reliant on blood (she thought that as if vampires were not in a similar predicament). The average full grown human creature has around 4-6 liters of blood within their sad little bodies. The individual blood content of your human creature must be considered, with male human creatures typically having greater blood content. This one that she had acquired was rather tall, likely meaning there was quite a lot to take before it would be in much risk.
Now her fangs were embedded firmly within the skin, she moved her head slightly, enlarging the gash feeling blood spill onto her tongue. It wasn't the taste that made her own “blood” thrum and rush, nor the thrill of the chase, or the feeling of having another creature submitting to her entirely. It was the feeling of life. Almost as if she could feel warmth on her skin and a pulse where there was none. It took considerable effort to not chase it, that feeling of life, fortunately Victormira was quite well practiced.
She believed the supplier would likely survive. But of course, accidents happen. They happen all the time.