Haunted dusk red eyes follow the flutter of a half-drunk pulse from a distance of more than forty yards. As that dastardly demonic hunger stirs to wakefulness within the pit of his abdomen there is no mistaking the twisted core of his being which screams, ‘prey!’ Little Miss Prey...the surface of his skin crawls with the weight of that desire, he can already scent the lush bouquet of her blood upon the warm summer breeze. He lingers in the shadows. Little more intriguing than the neon lights flashing incessantly, their colors a never-ending charade of happiness.

Had it been possible his head would have ached from the horrendously bright gasses, instead he forces himself to tune them out. They fade to nothing more than a blur of bright colors at the edge of his vision. He never  takes his eyes off of the slip of a woman across the street. As he shifts, the weight of his leather jacket falls more favorably over his shoulders. Its well worn edges make it easier for him to drift away, almost to disappear into the shadows which seem to reach out in an attempt to tug him into their depths.

Noises, ripe with information, pour their way into his ear canals. It might have been enough data to drive someone insane. The pounding base of music from the club, a booming melody brought forth via the loud voices of revelers, discordant harmony from the traffic on a main thoroughfare two streets back. He’d heard it all a thousand, thousands, of times before.

Sounds seem to still, to die down in spite of themselves. The hush before the storm, the heavy presence of a predator thrown into the mix.

Sharp as razor blades his fangs bite into the flush rise of his lower lip. He doesn’t miss the admiring glances thrown his way and so does all in his power to hold his mouth closed over the saliva-drenched appendages which would scream ‘run’ to any individual smart enough to listen. He offers a closed-lipped smile to those whose stares linger a little too long and they scurry away.

He returns his attention to that half-drunk pulse of life and his eyes follow every detail as the object of his focus hovers unsteadily by a lamp post. Every detail resonates as clearly as though he were mere feet before her. Slender fingers pull a lit cigarette to her plump lips, her thin chest swells with the inhale. Eyelids drift closed over the electric blue of her gaze as she allows her head to fall back on her shoulders. Midnight locks sway as she rolls her head from side to side. All pretense gone from her face in the faded embrace of night. Vibrant, neon yellow shines over her head, it hollers the name of the club she has just left to the moon in the sky. That erratic pulse pumps at the fragile skin of her throat and pure lava awakens under his flesh.

It sears to his very marrow.

Muscles coil under his skin, ready at a moment’s notice to begin the hunt. Instead the sharpened ridges of his claws pierce through denim and dig into layers of his own skin. As he watches, her hands lift the cigarette once more. The cherry burns vibrant red in the dark. She drops the remnants to the ground and a burnt puff of smoke twinges his nares when she exhales. Even with that terrible habit she is just what he’s been looking for.

Miss Prey turns with a sharp snap of her stiletto and her arms wrap themselves tightly around her chest as a gaggle of women appear over her shoulder. Music swells again as they pour out the front of the club, a man or two trails after them with faces twisted in expectation. While the open door allows the music to overwhelm his senses for a moment he snarls to himself.

Mouths move under the unintentional camouflage, hers and that of a much more stable looking blonde. He strains to make out what they’re saying. Just as the club door slams closed and one of the men steps forward to slip an arm around the shoulders of the girl with the midnight hair, he is able to hear them once more.

“Are you sure?” Miss Blondie presses, her eyes jump to the man at her friend’s shoulder. There is a wariness to her gaze which presses at the seam of his comfort level.

Miss Prey waves her off with an unmistakable smile and hunger in her electric gaze.

“Definitely.” She wraps those slender fingers around the wrist of her friend for a moment before pushing back on her.

“Now get the rest of these troublemakers home!”

The girls hovering around them cheer and shove at one another playfully, countless conversations ebb and flow to be heard above the cacophony. He darts his gaze to the sky and pins down the wild urging of his being to launch on the pack of them AT ONCE.

As soon as he feels a scrap of control in his grasp again, his flickering red gaze drops to the group. The barest glimpse of light blue tugs his attention to blondie as she corrals the others and he almost has himself convinced she was staring directly at him. Within seconds though she has them hurried around the corner and his attention is recaptured by the husky laugh which tickles his eardrums. He takes a hesitant step forward as her long dark locks swish with the motion of her flirtatious shove against her companion. Inside his mind the terrible center of his being presses to the forefront of his mind, it devours her in a wink. It urges him. Two-for-one. Two-for-one.

His own exasperated laughter leaves his lips on a miniscule breath of air as his steps begin to trail those of the moonlit lovers. The wide shoulders of the other man sway with each step, an easy comfort in the motion. Try as he might, all the follower can make out is messy brown locks and a medium-sized form clothed in clubbing attire. Resentment awakens in his mind. He should have paid better attention before.

A memory of a face half-drenched in blood flickers to life, barely a glimpse, a conglomeration of handsome features. Locks of light brown hair, but the hair of the man with her? Impossible to say. He tucks the memory away.

The sounds of the city fade a little as the path of the lovers leads them farther from that main thoroughfare and the many clubs of the area. Their unseen tag-a-long follows silent as air in the shadows of stretching skyscrapers. Minutes pass him by in relative quiet as he just follows and listens to scattered apartment complexes mutter in the back of his mind. They lull him and for a moment he wonders if this endeavor is truly worth it.

Until her squeal cuts through the stillness of the night. He freezes. Positive he’s been made. There’s no stopping his muscles as his eyes scan toward where the other two had stood ahead of him mere seconds before. He catches a glimpse as the woman shoves her partner into an alleyway. Surprise floods his bloodstream. Vibrant blue flashes at him for a second as shadows coalesce around him and her eyes jerk the other way before she follows the fading form of the other man.

Husky giggles drift to him on the air within seconds and he rolls the dusty red of his eyes. Aggravation bunches on his shoulders as he dives head-first into war with the darkest parts of himself. His rough hand scrapes over the shorn-short bristles of his hair and he captures the tip of his tongue between his front teeth. To go after them, or turn away. Blood or another night spent alone within the confines of his small basement apartment? Beetles crawl over his skin as he wavers on the precipice in the midst of his mental war.

Her deep-throated gasp shoves him over the edge. Copper burns his nostrils, water bubbles through unseen pipes, the world carries on its way as a predator closes down on its prey. That sickly stillness from before hovers in the air. His jaw nearly cracks from pressure as he grits his teeth. In seconds, milliseconds maybe, he has covered the countless yards between his hiding place and the place where they disappeared. He comes to a stop at the end of the lover’s alleyway.

The soft noises filtering from her lips set his blood ablaze. Desire rages rampant over his body. Red blooms deeper in his eyes as he takes in the scene before him.

Jagged edges scrape against sensitive flesh where the straps of her dress have slid off of her shoulders. Dark hair tumbles around the pair, her head tosses back and forth at the tip of her long neck which remains mostly hidden by the skull of her lover. Her slender hands which held that cigarette so artfully mere minutes before are clasped within a single wide palm of the man’s. Pinned at her hip.

His chest constricts painfully at the way she writhes under the man’s attention. Hesitations and second-guesses spark to life within his mind. As his hunger presses forward he takes a small step backward.

Aluminum scuttles over the ground. His muscles turn to stone.

Lightning blue eyes grapple with his.

Slender fingers twitch in an unyielding grasp.

Plump lips curl.

Part.

Whimper.

Electric blue floods with liquid, drowning the spark, and he surges forward. The world swirls around him. Faded colors blend together as he closes the distance between himself and the prone back of her partner. Silence descends. The world waits with bated breath.

His heavy hand drops onto the shoulder nearest him. Something cracks as his fingers dig into silk-clad skin. Claws bite into frigid flesh. Barely more than a breath passes before the dark, bowed head of the other man rears backwards toward him. Red melts across his vision.

Everything inside of him roars while he rears back his free hand. The darkness-muddled hunger in his chest begs.

Yes. yes. yesyesyes!!!

He releases his death grip on the beast and his fist sails forward before the other man can turn to face him. Deep red even in the darkened alley, blood bursts across his skin. In spite of himself, his eyes close, he revels in the sensation for just a moment. Blood drips sluggishly off his fingertips. Each second seems to stretch for eternity before the atrocious flesh in his palm is released. A heart thumps to the ground. The body which has become wrapped around his forearm slowly goes lax.

Less than a minute.

‘So easy,’ his mind purrs to him behind the shield of his eyelids. ‘Her turn.’

The words rip him free of that terrible grasp and his skin recoils as he drops his arm to allow the other man’s body the opportunity to fall to the ground. His stomach churns at just how cold the blood on his arm is in spite of having just departed a body. Even with the fact that he never saw the other’s face, there is no faking cold blood. Dead man’s blood. Still, the tip of his boot hooks under the man’s thigh and turns him face up to the world.

Frozen surprise glares up at him. Deep red eyes nearly the same color of his own stare into the heavens, vicious fangs stained with blood gleam in the splintered moonlight and he has to drag his eyes away from the gaping wound in the center of the man’s chest. He looses a sigh of relief just before a body barrels into him. Had he been weaker he might have retaliated instinctively, but that husky voice grasps him by the throat. Gentle curves press against the thick leather of his jacket and warm the cold skin underneath just barely.

“Thank you! Holy hell, thank you so much.”

The heavy scent of her blood burrows into his mind as his hands hang uselessly at his sides. With a detached mind he raises his palms and rests them on her shoulders. He pushes until she takes an infinitesimal step back. It takes all of his strength to keep his eyes from latching onto the source of that scent. Barely his eyes take in the deep red stain spreading over her throat but he can't allow himself to look at it. Not yet. He turns his gaze back to meet with hers. Her dark head hovers a little below on par with his line of sight, but her sharp eyes stare into his soul all the same. Daring him to look down on her.

“I don’t,” her eyes narrow at him, confusion flickers. “I don’t know what happened, he just…”

Shivers tear through her body as he watches, forcing his mind to remain distant. Seconds tick away as she fights with her rationality and the urge to run burns to life in his blood. Any other night and he would have already gone. Panic arcs in his chest as she raises a trembling hand to her throat.

“I wouldn’t…” His voice cuts out at the steel which flashes in her gaze for a moment before being overtaken by nerves again.

Blood flows freely down the considerable length of her neck. Her fingers brush through it as though she’s just realized the truth of its existence.

Her scream rattles his teeth.

Artist’s fingers scramble in the blood, her hand quickly becomes coated as tears blur the blue of her gaze. She stumbles backward and whatever remains of his heart vaults into his throat. He viciously shoves the monstrous part of his being into a box as her back thumps against brick and she slides to the ground. He drops easily down before her. His hands stretch toward hers, bundle them into a pile on her lap far from the battlefield of her throat.

The already-short hem of her dress slips further upward, revealing delicately dimpled skin, yet he spares it nothing more than a glance. His eyes zero in on the blood pouring over her skin, his attention hiccups for a moment upon the pulse fluttering there before he gently tests the skin under the blood.

Destruction reigns under the rubied liquid. Her skin has been torn to shreds, muscles laid bare by the viciousness of a vampire attack. Clearly his own victim was not kind to the woman chosen for dinner. Knowing the risks of her losing much more blood he presses his palm firmly to the wide wound of her throat. The red tint of his eyes has faded enough to reveal the chocolate color underneath when he catches her gaze once again. His fingers tingle with the slowing flutter of her pulse.

“Don’t thank me, you still might not make it.”

He doesn’t catch the look in her eyes as his focus drops to his left hand. Against his better judgement he raises it to his mouth and pierces a single fingertip with the end of a fang. Her gasp tugs at him and hurt lances through him as she pulls back from the press of his hand holding her blood in. He restricts the urge to roll his eyes and lifts his bleeding finger toward her face.

“If you drink this, it will heal you.” He runs the tip of his tongue over his lower lip. “Then you can thank me.”

Her eyes gaze at him suspiciously, though they’re quickly weighted with blood loss. Slowly, hesitantly, he lifts his blood-drenched right hand to cover her wound once more, with a press of his fingers her head lifts off the stone and curves in toward him. Her own hands rest limp in her lap. The beautiful lines of her face cumple and takes what remains of his mind with it as she gives a weak nod. He presses his finger toward the slightly chapped edges of her lips.

The tip of her tongue darts out. Brushes over the droplet and it's gone in an instant. Desire slithers down his spine as he forces his eyes to drop. They trace the delicate planes of her fingers until a single one stops him cold. One pinky lays crushed. Mangled and completely out of sorts.

Her voice sounds stronger when it breaks into his consciousness...still it is nothing more than a whisper on the air.

“He squeezed when you grabbed him.”

“I’m sorry.” The words spill out without thought.

Hell, how many nights had he hunted his own kind? How many had he not managed to save? And this was what struck him the hardest? A broken finger?

His fingers cradle hers as he lifts them. Contemplation weighs his gaze as he stares at the broken piece of her, Habit curls his lips into a smile as he lifts his eyes to her lovely face. Though, the way she recoils kills it immediately. He drops her hand as though it has burned him.

“It will heal too.”

He flinches when she cries out at the pain of her hand landing in her lap, still too weak to have caught it. She distracts him from the world around them. All he hears is a grunt less than a second before a new form collides with his own. Useless air bursts from his lungs, a habit kept from his shred of humanity so long ago.

“Jenn no!” His black-haired beauty cries out as the newcomer grapples with him. He places a heavy leash on his strength as her scent assaults his senses. Teak and metallic and human. It’s just another human.

With a huff he manages to flip onto his back despite the new woman straddling him. His body has half-sprawled over the remains of the demonic bloodsucker he killed. Blood makes it hard to get a good grasp of his combatant as they slip against one another. Suddenly she reels back over him.

Streetlights glow against the golden halo of her hair from behind and he is amazed to see it is Miss Blondie who has managed to surprise him. Miss Prey screams at her to get off of him from the sidelines and it warms him from the inside out. His eyes dart to hers, heavy with appreciation even as he scrambles to break free of her fragile friend without causing harm.

Bright, nearly feverish in appearance, Miss Prey’s eyes widen with surprise and fear. Dread awakens in his cores as she screams out.

“NO! HE SAVED ME!!”

Blondie barely spares her a glance, “You’re mistaken! He only wanted you for himself. They’re all killers!”

Splinters break through his skin. The dead muscle of his heart begs for cover. Wood burrows deep between his ribs. Every muscle seizes. The barely flickering canals of his mind supply him with nothing other than amazement. He had heard of humans hunting his kind...but always believed it was nothing more than a rumor. His body stills.

Miss Prey violently shoves her friend to the side as darkness presses in at the edges of his vision. She screams words he can't make out with all the vengeance of a dying sun before scrambling to his side. His eyes immediately shift to the skin of her throat, he sighs at the way it is stitching itself back together. Limp muscles across his form jerk when she pulls the stake free of his heart. Miss Blondie shifts into his line of sight over Miss Prey's shoulder and he has to drag his eyes from her face, still stunned that such a little wisp of a thing could have damaged him so. Miss Prey's fingers curl at his chest, probe, press, slip.

Tears shimmer in her eyes.

Fall on his face.

Her whisper wraps around his soul.

“Can I save you?”