Nicholas
Iwatched her all night.
The pub reeked of sweat and cheap beer, the kind of place I’d generally avoid. It was too loud, bright, and far too human. But I tolerated it because she was here.
Her scent hit me the moment I stepped inside the first pub. I could taste it in the air, ripe, fertile, and alive in a way that made my gums ache.
A breeder. Rare and delicious.
Ivy.
She was drunk, laughing too loudly with her gaggle of friends, their arms slung around each other like a shield.
They’d been bar-hopping, drowning her sorrows after some pathetic breakup.
I’d already taken care of the ex. A friend who owed me a favour tracked him down, drained him dry, and left his body stiff as leather in a ditch.
No loose ends.
Now, she was perfect. Vulnerable. On the rebound and ready.
I ordered a round of drinks for their table—something sweet, something substantial.
I knew exactly what each of them had been drinking all night.
I knew which ones would tap out first and which would cling to her like limpets.
This was the fourth pub I’d followed them to, and patience had never been my virtue.
But waiting made the hunger sharper.
They stumbled to the dance floor, giggling and swaying.
Ivy moved like she was trying to shake off her own skin, her red hair wild, her blue dress clinging to every curve.
No bra. I could see the faintest shadow of her nipples when the light hit just right.
She wasn’t one of those starved, sharp-hipped creatures modern men seemed to adore—no, she was lush. Soft in the ways that mattered.
My mouth watered.
Not for her blood. Not yet.
But for what would come after.
When her body was ripened with my seed and, another abomination was created.
I wiped the corner of my lips with a napkin, the faintest smear of saliva darkening the paper. Disgusting, this involuntary reaction. Like a dog scenting meat. But then, that’s what I was, wasn’t I? A beast in a tailored suit.
She threw her head back, laughing at something one of her friends said, the column of her throat exposed. I could see her pulse jumping there, a frantic little rabbit beneath her skin.
Soon, I promised myself.
But not tonight.
Tonight was just the beginning.
I smiled as the bartender pointed toward my shadowed corner. All five heads swivelled in unison, their gazes locking onto me like moths spotting a flame.
Pathetic and predictable human behaviour.
My eyes stayed fixed on the red-headed one. Ivy’s fingers tightened around her glass. Her friends erupted in whispers, loud enough for even human ears to catch.
“Oh my God.”
“I’d let him ruin my life.”
“Fuck that. I’d let him ruin my vagina.”
“Ladies, hold my bag. This one’s mine.”
My smile widened. Not at their slurred words because I’d heard variations of them for centuries, but at the way Ivy’s pulse jumped in her throat. Fear? Excitement? It didn’t matter. Both were intoxicating.
Her friend elbowed her hard enough to slosh vodka onto the table. “For fuck’s sake, Ivy. He is perfect.”
Ivy finally spoke, her voice low, just for them. “Yeah. A little too perfect.”
Oh. Now, that was interesting.
I let my grin turn razor-sharp as I approached, my steps slow and deliberate. The women stiffened, and their bravado began to wane. They didn’t realise it yet, but their instincts were screaming.
Predator. Run.
Too bad humans never listened.
I reached their table, and the loud one, Sadie, introduced everyone with a flourish.
When she said Ivy's name, the redhead lifted her hand in an awkward little wave, her fingers trembling just enough for me to notice.
“Thanks for the drinks,” she mumbled, her voice sweetly strained.
I nodded politely, but my eyes never left hers. Not when Sadie prattled on, not when the other women peeled away one by one, giggling their goodbyes. Only Ivy and Sadie remained by the last call, their cheeks flushed with liquor and the thrill of danger they didn't yet understand.
I made a show of glancing at my Rolex.
“Why don't I give you ladies a lift home?” I asked, pausing a beat. “Unless you'd like another drink?”
“No, no, no.” Ivy wagged a finger at me like I was a misbehaving child. “We're done.”
“We wouldn't mind a lift,” Sadie cut in, shooting Ivy a glare when her friend's elbow jabbed her ribs. “What?”
“Nothing,” Ivy muttered before turning back to me, her smile tight. “You've been very kind, but we don't want to trouble you.”
“No trouble at all.” I pulled out my phone, texting Daniel, my driver, not my thrall, though the distinction hardly mattered. “I've already got a car waiting.”
“Oh.” Her resolve wavered. “Excuse us for a moment.”
I watched her drag Sadie away, their heels clicking on the sticky floor. They stopped near the restrooms, far enough that a human wouldn't overhear.
But I wasn't human.
I focused on my phone, letting them think they were safe.
“I can't do this,” Ivy hissed.
“Why the hell not?”
“I've only been with fuckface for the last four years. What if I get stage fright? Or what if he has a weird-shaped dick, and I laugh so hard he murders me in a fit of rage?”
My lips twitched.
Oh, darling. If only you knew.
“Or what if—”
“That asshole slapped you around for a year because he couldn't hold down a job and treated you like a fucking doormat. No—a doormat gets more respect than you did. You sit on that man's dick and get over it.” Sadie stabbed a finger in my direction.
“God, keep your voice down—” Ivy shoved Sadie's arm down, her face burning. “If I die tonight, that’s on you.”
“Sure, but at least you will orgasm before you die. He doesn't look like the 44% of men who can't find a woman’s clit.”
“How can you be this drunk and remember useless statistics?” Ivy muttered as they locked arms and began to walk toward me.
“It is not a useless statistic. It is a growing concern for women everywhere.”
I pocketed my phone, savouring the moment.
The decision was made.