Craig Miller could smell her as she walked down the aisle of books; could envision her before she passed where he stood, leaning against the bookshelf. So he imagined her. From the gait in her walk, the smooth way her arms past her body, and natural deductive reasoning, he envisioned honey-blond hair, creamy tawny skin, and legs.

The lovely vision coming his way did not pass, but turned down the same aisle, confirming his profile of her. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw him standing there. Instead of looking pleased, Craig Miller looked... annoyed.

He slammed the book shut, and disappeared around the other side of the bookcase. The young lady remained glued to the spot in which a body had just stood and disappeared like a dream. Like a sexy, but hazy dream, she thought was the only way she could describe it. Craig Miller smiled at that description as he walked out of the library.

He was almost at the edge of the woods when he realized something. He was in need. Intimacy is what he craved, but it was so fleeting that he sometimes regretted the hunt. The library held such presence within the confines of the books that he never felt lonely, yet it never quenched his hunger. Sometimes Craig Miller was discovered loitering about outside before venturing in to soak up the energy from countless novels. The librarians used to comment quietly on his attire, thinking he was some grungy bedhead who could not decide what he wanted to do with his life. When he had one.

He would pass them by, smiling ominously, for if they knew what he really wanted, they would understand his tendency to hang about. Chills ran down their spines at the sight of his intense gaze, but they never gathered the courage to tell him to leave. No one could ever really see his eyes when he used to come around in the past. His long black hair was always hanging over them on both sides of his face, sort of shutting people off from getting too close. To the observer, it would seem he owned only long-sleeved shirts, and the pants he wore only came in one size: baggy. Craig Miller's boots remained a constant echo throughout the halls, throughout the aisles, and up against the tall ceilings when he entered.

He was searching for that door, that perfect pool of energy, that perfect soul to ravish. But now. People rarely paid any attention to him and he became so accustomed to it that when someone got a whiff of his presence, he felt as if they were intruding upon him. And he would leave. Though he could still hear the chatter, "Why is he here?" "Why does he choose the library?" "There's nothing here but books!"

His knowledge was broad, his mind, brilliant. However, his appearance never gave one a chance to discern the hunger of intimacy past the grungy exterior. Something that infuriated him and humored him at the same time. When he lived at home, no one had ever been able to get close enough to Craig Miller's room back in the shed, for if they did, they would see the hundreds of stacked books that were his walls. The many books lying underneath his bed that was his frame, with a small lamp in the center of it all.

Craig Miller locked himself away in his room, only to emerge at night when all the other 'low-lifes' thought they were invisible. He would return after purchasing items he needed for his sculptures, or when he was in the mood for a decent blow job from enthusiastic, but money-hungry strangers. One look at his dark presence and many of them would drop to their knees, asking him for permission to wrap their lips around his cock for free. But they knew better... nothing was free.

This day was different.

The cute little blond with the heart-shaped lips did not look through him, but at him. Yeah, he was 'annoyed, ' but intrigued. And decided there was something worth checking out at the library after all.

He sauntered in, pushing his right sleeve up to his elbow, and looked around. Craig Miller made it a point not to tread so loudly, but the hushed echo of his boots could still be heard by sensitive ears. The proof? The gray-haired lady with too much eyeliner circling her eyes. She looked up as he neared her space, her beady eyes widened as if she had seen a ghost and rested a hand upon her heavy chest. Her thick hand was covered in countless rings that came near her throat. She probably thought she was 'psychic.' There is no such thing, thought Craig with a smirk.

Toying with her, he whispers in her ear as he passes, "Your soul is watching me, old woman."

Craig sensed a few others watching him, but couldn't tell if it were the inner eyes of the visitors, or the ones in the books. At the moment, he was not so concerned any longer once he remembered. His main focus was finding red heart-shaped lips. Craig Miller closed his eyes and sauntered assuredly down the aisle, the girl's scent leading him right to her. He passed her aisle so suddenly that it made her gasp, loudly. She stood near the entrance of it, and his instant presence was not expected.

However, she remained glued to the pages, embarrassed from her outburst. Craig smiled and leaned against the casing, watching her through the books the same way her soul was eyeing him. He walked to the end of the row of books and crossed over into the aisle in front of her, getting her to look at him this time. Craig was transfixed on her green eyes; his gaze was hypnotic. He almost smiled at her, almost smiled at her approval of his 'dirty spirit.' Deeper he looked, and knew this girl had always welcomed a decent amount of danger.

He could see her pulse quicken with excitement, could see the delicate litte hairs stand up along her skin. And before the girl knew what had happened, Craig Miller had appeared down by her end, but remained on the other side. An intense motion waded through the air around them as he continued toying with the girl.

Craig could only smile at the thoughts swimming through her head. His dark presence intrigued her, his black hair, even more. Just when he attempted to walk away, he turned around in surprise, tricking her. A hand snaked through the shelves and grabbed her forearm. He then walked around and faced her, his hand still gripping tightly onto her through the tops of the books.

It was a surreal moment the way Craig looked standing in front of her as if simply talking with her, his arm hidden, his face calm, friendly. But underneath, the hand holding tightly to her forearm, was certainly a different picture. The girl stared at his face, she noted his lonely eyes and vulnerability, thought is was sweet. And then he spoke.

"I smell your cunt," he grinned. "I'm thinking I'd like to taste it."

His smile revealed perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. Such a contrast with the flesh-suit he was sporting. It was not a dead-looking color, but a romantic paleness that highlighted his face. Suddenly, she noted his canines and how they had the smallest points at the end, making the lovely girl think of seductive vampires.

"You like vampires?" he asked her, already sensing her desire for dark passion. "Well, I'm not a vampire, I was born this way. You wouldn't believe the hounding I used to get from those wannabes over by Crescent Grove."

Was he speaking, or was she dreaming? Because she could not speak, could not shake the dizziness from her mind. She swallowed, finally, her hand felt as if it were going numb, but she dared not look. Craig Miller brought his free hand to his face, moving his hair back. It all seemed like a haze. The strands that flipped behind him nipped at her cheek on the quick pass. She gazed him, making sure to unlock her knees before she swooned before him like an idiot. For a moment it looked as if his eyes flowed like a sunset into darkness, from light brown to a midnight blue. It reminded her of a dark night.

His multi-colored gaze traveled down to her lips; it trailed lightly over her chin, her neck, and ended on her collar bone. She knew when his eyes stopped and it made her heart skip. She desired for him to go further, the touch of his eyes feeling like fingers on her skin.

"Oh, they were touching your skin, my love," his grip slipped down to her wrist, "but not this skin."

Still, he noticed the curve of her delightful hills peeking out at him just then. He wanted to touch them, but turned and walked down the aisle. The grip on her arm was still there, for he was not ready to let go just yet. He needed a moment to think. The girl watched him walk down the blue carpeted path and covered her mouth. Her curiosity overwhelmed her, and finally, she looked under the shelf. Suddenly, his grip, and his presence, vanished. Wondering if she had just lost her mind, the girl looked around, laughing quietly. She was not ready to lose it just yet, she had to get back to work.

"Annika?" the voice said.

She yelped then.

"What the hell... ?" Mike asked.

"Excuse me. I thought you were someone else," Annika whispered, desperately trying to catch her breath.

"This is a library, in case you forgot."

He was too annoying to be so close, she thought. "I'm almost finished. I'll be done in a second," she told him, pushing his shoulder toward the exit.

"What are you getting now? We have to go or we'll be late," Mike whined.

"We're hosts at an amusement park, not executives. Trust me, we will not be missed," she told him. "I just wanted to get another book."

"What is it with you and trees? A blind man would think you were carrying on this way about a person."

"They may not be actual people, but they are alive," she said to get him going. "The last time I checked 'beliefs' were... free of charge, right?" she said, her eyebrow arching just slightly.

"I just wish I could be the subject of such... fascination."

"Ohhh, can we please not go down that road, again?"

Annika secretly appreciated Mike's company. His borderline femininity was not all that attractive to her, but his looks distracted her from time to time. In her many distracted states, his whiny voice would always douse all flames and scatter the smoldering embers abroad. However, she would date him, she thought to herself, even have casual sex with him only because of her curiosity about how he would make love. Annika loathed the thought of Mike getting attached and just decided to avoid it altogether.

The hairs on the back of her neck suddenly stood up, but not from Mike's insinuations.

It was the man leering behind him that made her heart leap. The stare was deadly, menacing, but he made no attempt to speak or advance. Craig had seen where her thoughts were leading and he wasn't too thrilled. His speedy attachment was not his intention, but... there it was. And all Craig Miller had to do was imagine his strong hands circling the guy's neck...

"Suddenly, I feel I am not wanted. I can see you might want to be alone and finish up," Mike said, walking backwards down the blue carpet. "I'll see you at work."

The rest of the way, Mike sprinted toward the exit.

"If you don't want him, An-ni-ka, you shouldn't have him around," Craig Miller said softly.

Something was wrong about the entire situation. She felt odd trying to answer him and remained silent. What was it?!

"I believe it's called fear," he said, walking away slowly. "Take care of the company you keep, dear one," leaving a trembling Annika staring after him.

Annika walked quickly to the book counter. A loudly dressed old lady next to her was speaking to the librarian.

"Do you believe the nerve he has hanging around here everyday?" she asked, frowning dramatically.

"As long as he keeps the peace what does it matter?" the librarian asked, humoring the old lady yet again.

"He's here for a reason. Craig Miller doesn't just hang around to because he wants to read forever," she told her.

"You know, I really don't believe those stories. I only listen, because it's so intriguing to see what the ending will be next time."

"It's not a story, Shelley," the older woman whispered. "He's here now, I can feel him. And you know what... he's in hunting mode again. Yep, sure is."

"You superstitious old hag," Shelley joked.

"I am not superstitious. I told everyone something terrible was gonna happen to that girlfriend of his, " she said, wagging a thick finger covered with a large costume ring in front of Shelley's face.

"You're holding up the line, sweetheart," Shelley smiled, ignoring the woman's words. She liked to humor the old woman only because she had become accustomed to her coming around so often during the last couple of years. Such a boring town always had it comic relief.

Annika couldn't believe what she was hearing. She listened boldly, waiting for more information to form a conclusion about their conversation, preferably about the subject of their chatter. She had found out that Craig Miller had a girlfriend who had broken his heart a few years ago. Some say he left town, some say he is in hiding, many have rumored that he hung himself in that very library. A place where his girlfriend used to spend most of her time. Now she just walked around town in a daze, not seeming like herself anymore...

"Frankly, they need to shut this place down."

"Why, it's the only library in town."

"They need to build another one, then."

"Ms. Lois, they just spent a measly two bits on this one, why would anyone do that?"

"Something evil saturates this place. Look around, there is hardly anyone here," she pointed, noticing Annika with surprise.

"And you're all done, Ms. Lois, here you go," Shelley smiled. "They're due back on the 27th. Thanks and have a nice day," she said with as much sarcasm as she could muster.

Annika looked down, she had forgotten her purse on the shelf.

"Dammit," she whispered.

Walking slowly down the carpeted path, Annika looked behind her, uneasy with going in the direction she wanted to jet from. The women at the counter had finished their business and went on to some other task, or simply left the area. The faint sound of her footsteps could be heard. She walked on, realizing too late that it was not her footsteps she was hearing. When she turned around again, Craig Miller was walking the blue path, his boots making their presence known in spite of. He always thought he had to have some kind of effect on people.

The energy of his intentions reached Annika before he did, engulfing her like a flame. Annika whimpered and moaned as her body came alive with arousal so strong that it robbed her of the ability to walk properly. She stumbled to where her purse lie, but could not figure out why it even mattered anymore. It was difficult to move her arms to even retrieve it. Moving down the aisle, she attempted to get away, to hide behind a shelf of books.

That corner of the library was quiet, devoid of studying minds. It was so deserted that she felt eerily alone. Craig looked at her as if he were welcomed to taunt her that way. It was not a smug look, but one riddled with finality. He knew what he wanted, but he could not share that information with her just yet.

"What do you want?" she finally spoke, he smiled at the irony.

Instead of answering, he only lowered his head and closed his eyes as he came near to pinning her into the corner. His presence was overwhelming to the poor girl, but his restraint at not touching her made it more unbearable, because it was exactly what she wanted since spotting him.

"Those of you that can see me, treat me as if I'm a monster..." he said. "You don't want to see what it is you know you see."

"What do you m--"

"Those of you that can feel me, treat me as if I'm crawling along your skin like an unwanted disease... but not you."

"I don't und--"

"All I want, " he interrupted, "is for someone to understand what it is I'm searching for. Only then will they understand why I am on a 'hunt, '" he said, his eyes still closed. "I do not wish to hurt anyone, I don't want to take some one's life."

"You seem pretty nice to me," Annika groaned inwardly at such a stupid remark.

"You don't believe that and you know it," he said. "You think I want to harm you. You think I want to suck your blood until you orgasm from near death. I know you, Annika."

"No," she said, bearly above a whisper.

"I don't want to suck you dry... unless-sssss you want me to," he grinned, taunting her again.

"W-what do you want, then?"

"Just," he said, opening his eyes, "to make love to your soul."

"In order to do that, doesn't someone have to die?"

"You read too many stories, Annika, but it's terribly complicated. Though, I would be happy to show you," he said, walking closer.

Craig Miller did not wait for an answer, her body was glowing with desire. Annika was in the dark, could not figure out what he was about to do to her. This was his aphrodisiac. She had to strain her neck slightly to look up at him; he looked dangerous, menacing. This was the 'finger' that made her clit tingle.

Craig had yet to touch her, but knew he could make her orgasm where she stood. The closer he walked, the more Annika squirmed. She grabbed at her clothes, pressed her thighs together. His closeness was powerful and filled the air with a mysteriousness she had never experienced in her mere eighteen years.