Chapter 13
Eric
The night was pitch black, the new moon and stars hidden behind dark, looming clouds.
Everything was damp, the air tasting like rain already, and there was a sense of urgency among the human folk hurrying along the streets.
No one took the time to linger in these parts of town anyway, but today they were walking just a tad faster than usual, as if sensing the upcoming change of weather.
And maybe they could. After all, I was keenly aware of the fact that it’d start pouring in the next five minutes.
However, while they were desperately trying to escape the cold dampness, I was unbothered by it, welcoming it even. The cold couldn’t get to me, not like it used to when I was human.
And nights like these?
They were perfect for hunting.
No one cared about anything or anyone except for getting home as quickly as possible. And once it started raining, the surprised gasps of my snacks would be drowned by the rain.
I just needed to find a target.
Which was harder to accomplish than usual.
It wasn’t even that there were no prospects.
No, there were plenty of people. It’d be so fucking easy to grab someone when they hurried past the alley I’d chosen as my hunting spot for the night.
I could hear them coming, could sense them.
Their rapid heartbeats, their huffing breaths.
The alluring scent of their blood pumping through their veins.
No, it wasn’t for lack of opportunity.
My heart just wasn’t in it, not since I’d tasted Finn. His blood was divine. Utter perfection. Ambrosia.
Bottled up, it’d probably sell for hundreds of thousands of dollars. A rare delicacy.
I snarled, my fangs elongating at the thought. That would never happen. Finn was mine. Mine to protect, mine to cherish. I would never let anyone use him as cattle.
A couple of drops were all it took to get absolutely hooked on him.
His blood was my personal heroin.
I heard the faint tip-tapping of footsteps in the distance and shook my head. I didn’t need to find the perfect meal, didn’t need to find someone who tasted as good as Finn—which wasn’t going to happen anyway—I just needed someone to feed from. I’d just take the next one and get it over with.
So I closed my eyes, tuning into the person approaching.
It was a guy, the footsteps quick but not hurried, the way he carried himself different from most women, especially during the night in this part of town.
He was a heavy dude, the steps echoing loudly off the street.
A moment later, his cologne hit. Cheap, musky-sweet perfume that made me want to gag mixed with the sweat of at least a couple of days.
Scrunching up my nose, I contemplated my options. Feeding from him seemed less and less appealing, but my phone buzzed in my pocket.
It could be Finn texting me.
And if I got the feeding over with, I could check my phone. Maybe I could even get another date out of it.
Okay, let’s do it.
I crouched down and jumped from the fire escape I’d been using as a vantage point for the past hour or so and landed silently in the back alley.
This spot was perfect. A dingy pizza place had its dumpsters right at the beginning of the alley, so all I had to do was wait for the guy and drag him a couple of feet. No matter how tall and muscular he might be, he wouldn’t stand a chance.
The footsteps came closer and closer, his speed increasing as the first drops of rain hit the hood of my jacket.
The rain had started.
Just at the right moment.
My muscles tensed, my senses zeroing in on my target.
Three.
Two.
One.
The guy came into view.
I was right. He was heavyset, maybe in his mid-forties, with a bald spot on top of his head that was glistening with sweat.
He swore as a drop of rain hit his forehead, but the noise turned into a surprised grunt as I stepped out behind him, wrapped one arm around his neck, slapped a hand over his mouth, and pulled him into the alley.
He struggled in my arms, and his panic released another dose of sweat, increasing the stench that made my stomach roll.
I should’ve waited for the next guy, I thought as I dragged the kicking guy behind the dumpster.
Panic turned to anger and back, his efforts to get away increasing. He was trying to talk, but the only sounds coming out of his mouth were muffled mmphs. He kicked me in the shins, trying his best to hurt me, but he just didn’t have the strength.
I didn’t pin him against the wall, didn’t want to give him the opportunity to get a glimpse of me—not that he’d remember what had happened—I simply used the hand of the arm I had around his neck to drag down his jacket.
His pulse was fluttering nervously, the vein in his neck pumping blood through his system at high speed.
My fangs elongated; the scent of blood now overpowered his stench.
He’d do. He was alive, the blood fresh, calling for me.
I bit into his neck, his blood flooding my mouth, the metallic taste making my eyes roll back as I greedily sucked down a couple of mouthfuls of the warm, thick liquid.
The guy went lax in my arms as soon as my fangs perforated his skin, a freeze reaction to my assault. Taking another sip, I noted the faint chemical aftertaste. He was taking some kind of medication, but nothing that stood out to me. At least he wasn’t on a cocktail of drugs.
I took my fill, drank until the gnawing in my stomach ebbed away, then licked the wound clean to close it up, shuddering as the satisfying metallic taste of his blood was replaced by sour sweat.
My stomach rebelled, the blood threatening to make a reappearance, but I pushed through, waited until the wound had closed completely, then shoved the guy out of the alley.
“Go home. Nothing happened. It was just a bad dream.”
I had no idea if he believed me. Most people did. It was just more convenient to think of a vampire attack as a bad dream rather than reality.
As soon as his footsteps faded into the distance, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and squeezed into the doorway of that pizza place to avoid getting it wet.
Finn: You made me addicted to that stupid tea. Now I’m thinking about walking fifteen minutes through freezing rain just to get a cup.
Finn: Care to join me?
I laughed, wiping my mouth with the sleeve of my jacket. I could still taste that guy’s sweat on my tongue.
Sure. I think it’s only fair since I’m the reason you’re addicted to tea now. Want me to pick you up or meet you there?
I didn’t care either way. I just needed to get this fucking taste out of my mouth sooner rather than later.
Finn: Let’s just meet there. I already called an Uber. If you get there first, order a cup of tea for me. Your choice.
Something fluttered in my chest, satisfaction spreading through my body. He trusted me to pick something he’d like.
Well, it seemed I had to run so I could make sure I got there first.
I’d pick the best, most perfect tea for Finn.