The closer he was to her, the more his control over his bloodlust seemed to weaken.

Standing in her way on purpose so she would run into him and give him an opening to separate her from her friends had almost made him lose control of his instincts. He’d had to fight his urges viciously to stop from draining her right then and there. It would have meant massive damage control, and his sire would likely never forgive him for such a mishap.

While it had been satisfying enough just to be near her and indulge in her scent, as it was what he had to settle for when she declined a free drink, he found himself craving her blood more and more as time went on. The moment she left The Virgin Saint hadn’t been able to come soon enough.

It did, eventually, but she left with her friends. He had no issue eliminating the two intoxicated males, but three families to placate were harder than one, and might draw media attention. While the government could handle it well enough, it was better to keep to his singular target. He could manage to be patient just a little bit longer.

From the rooftops, he followed them, easily keeping up by vaulting from roof to roof and landing silently as only a vampire could. He didn’t need to see them—he only had to follow the tempting scent of his prey’s blood.

One after the other she dropped them off at their respective apartments and it soon became clear that two young men lived rather close to each other. First the brown-haired young man arrived at his apartment, then the black-haired one, one right after the other. As soon as she had left the last apartment complex and was presumably on her way back to her own, he dropped from the roof and landed stealthily only yards behind her.

She stopped suddenly and he wondered if she had somehow heard him. It would make things simpler, not even having to introduce himself before she started running, but after the momentary pause she began to walk again. Her posture was wary, however, and he could smell the chemicals of fear tainting her scent.

What a smart little human. She at least knew that someone was there following her, although she had no inkling of how dire her situation was. She was completely unaware that her life was soon to end.

He followed her for a good while, keeping to the shadows and carefully controlling how much sound his footsteps made. The smell of her fear was becoming palpable as she became more aware of the fact that she was not alone on her walk home. She kept near the lights and away from dark alleyways, and he applauded her conscientiousness, but it would not save her.

Then, under a lamplight, she stopped altogether. She took a deep breath, and then said, “Stop following me or I’ll call the cops. I know you’re there.” Her voice was unwavering despite her obvious fear of him.

He couldn’t repress the chuckle that bubbled from his throat. The police, controlled by the government, would not be a threat to him. Nonetheless, he stepped out from the shadows. “That’s not very polite. I was simply enjoying the… view.”

She whirled around, eyes wide. She obviously hadn’t expected him to actually reveal himself.

“Y-you?” she stammered, and it came out as more of a question than an accusation. That was rather amusing.

“Yes, me.” He paused, allowing her to absorb her situation. He couldn’t resist letting some fang show past his lips.

She backed away, not taking her eyes off him and staying close to the lamppost. “I thought I made it obvious I wasn’t interested!” Her confident, angry words were belied by her trembling voice. “What do you want?” The last came out barely audible, but he could hear her perfectly.

Enjoying the situation far too much, he pretended to think about her question. “For you to go along with me quietly?” He then bared his fangs and relished the way her fear spiked.

There was no response to his sarcastic reply. He saw her trembling hand reaching for her purse, probably where her cell phone was. “What, afraid of vampires?” he mocked.

“Vampires don’t exist, you freak,” she spat. “Leave me alone.” Her hand had clasped over her cell phone. “I will seriously call the cops. Go away.”

He knew it wasn’t an idle threat, but it still didn’t faze him. In a flash, he utilized his superior speed to appear directly in front of her and grab the hand that held her phone. Clenching his cold hand over hers, he crushed the phone as she held it.

She screamed and tried to tear her hand away, but he didn’t allow it. Her hand, cut because she had still been holding the phone as he mangled the technology, released fresh blood generously. It immediately filled his senses and he started salivating hungrily. It was all he could do to command her, lest he end the chase before it began.

“Run.”

Terrified and more than a little confused, she complied, wrenching her hand from his grasp successfully and taking off as quickly as she could in her heels. He was somewhat surprised she wasn’t screaming as she ran. Although it was conducive to the chase, he was somewhat annoyed that her fear wasn’t being properly shown.

He let her go, though, knowing that she would need a decent head start for the hunt to be any fun, but more so it was the fact that she would hope she could escape him; when she realized that she couldn’t, her fear would multiply exponentially.

After all, he lived to be feared.

The part of town they were in wasn’t the greatest in terms of resources given the consistently beat-up cars lining the street and the shabby buildings on either side of them, so he decided that her scream of pain would probably not attract too much unwanted attention. He was willing to be more than patient for this hunt. Some of her blood had trickled onto his palm when she released her phone and he took great pleasure in licking it off his skin.

It became clear then that the reason he was so attracted to her blood was because its unique cinnamon and honey flavor was one he’d never experienced before. Usually the taste of blood only differed by a relatively small margin, depending on the human’s health and emotions; he had never tasted blood that had any relevance to human food.

He was already addicted, and it grated on him that after he was finished with her the magnificent taste would likely be gone forever.

Once her footsteps had faded sufficiently, he went after her. He took his time, scaling the nearest building silently and leaping from roof to roof. He noticed she was headed towards a more populated and wealthier area of Canton and he felt a tingle of displeasure course through him. He wasn’t sure if it was the direction of her home or not, but he knew that the more people there were the more likely she was to escape him. That couldn’t happen, not when she was already too much of a loose end.

He sped ahead of her, and then, just as she was turning a corner that would have allowed her to escape him, he landed in front of her. “Wrong way, my sweet,” he purred, sadism tinging his voice.

She shrieked, and this time it irked him. It was more than possible that someone might have heard, and he would have absolutely no one interrupt his chase. She turned around to go the other direction, but the scent of the blood flowing from her hand was too much. Instead of taking the rooftops again, he began to herd her towards an alleyway that was dark enough to be sufficient for his purposes. If she wasn’t panting so hard from running, she would probably be attracting much more attention.

“Leave me alone!” she yelled. He could smell her tears.

Mikhail shivered with anticipation.

And then it was time. The chase had been satisfying, but it was time to reap his reward because he couldn’t risk attracting any innocent bystanders—he wouldn’t chance letting this one go. Utilizing his inhuman speed, he appeared before her in an instant. She yelped in terror as he shoved her backwards into the alley. The girl stumbled and fell, but was immediately trying to get back on her feet. At this point she was breathing so hard that it made it impossible to catch her breath to call for help, so the only sound in the alleyway was her sobbing and panting.

“Leave… me… alone!” she begged through her labored breathing. He stalked towards her, observing her closely. Her breasts heaved in the most attractive of ways as she scrambled away from him and it was strange, but he found himself actually desiring the striking young woman. It wasn’t a completely foreign feeling to him, but he very rarely felt such urges, and never towards a human.

This acknowledged, it was even more a shame that she had to die.

“Get up,” he commanded, his eyes narrowing. She glowered at him obstinately but staggered to her feet anyways, stumbling a little due to her heels. He questioned her intelligence then. Why wouldn’t she have discarded her shoes if she was as desperate to get away at her fear displayed? There was no way the heels hadn’t hampered her movements.

Mikhail pushed this negative character assessment aside and focused on the task at hand. He could see in her expression that she was formulating a way to get away from him. It was futile, but nonetheless the fact that she thought she still had a chance was comical. It also made him wonder, yet again, whether she just determined or simply daft.

He began to slowly move towards her. Her teary eyes were flitting everywhere, trying to keep an eye on him while still looking for a chance to escape. It was a useless endeavor, but he allowed it—the longer it took him to reach her, the more her delectable fear spiked and flooded his senses. A low, hungry growl came from his throat.

“I’ll do anything,” she stammered, backing away unsteadily. “Just leave me alone.” She was clutching her purse to her chest, blood trickling from her injured hand.

His eyes honed in on the drops of red slowly spilling down her elbow to the ground and found himself annoyed that such wonderful blood was being wasted. He began to advance more quickly.

She was panicking now. “Seriously! Leave me alone!” she demanded desperately. He was suddenly upon her and she cried out, turning to run, but he caught her bloody hand.

Mikhail yanked her closer as he inhaled the intoxicating scent of her blood, nearly making her fall. He was salivating heavily and swallowed so as to not look like a slavering beast, although in that moment he may as well have been.

Her dark grey eyes widened in horror and it was clear that the only thing stopping her from screaming at this point was morbid curiosity. When he finally allowed himself to taste her, licking her hand wantonly, she made a disbelieving retching sound.

She was now breathing even more heavily, obviously nauseated by the sight of him feeding. She was horrified into silence as he began to suck on the wound, drawing more blood to the surface. His eyes, glazed over with bloodlust, met hers and maintained eye contact as he continued to assault her hand.

“Sick freak,” she spat with surprising anger and conviction—clearly her self-preservation had disappeared with the extent of her horror.

He finished with her hand, giving it a final lick. “Perhaps,” he agreed blithely. The comment riled her and she yanked at her hand, fear forgotten.

“Let me go, you vampire-wannabe! Go be disgusting somewhere else!” she shouted. Her face was pale with fear.

He wasn’t often annoyed by words like that, but for some reason this particular human saying them irritated him beyond belief. Mikhail gripped her wrist tightly and then propelled her into the nearest wall. She let out a loud whimper as her head snapped back against the brick. She didn’t stop pulling at her hand but he ignored it, instead advancing upon her quickly.

“I suppose I would wish I was a fake, if I were in your situation,” he mused, a touch of anger leaking into his voice. She glared at him and then, in a moment of clear desperation, kicked out at him. If it were to land, her three-inch heels might actually cause him pain.

However, he knocked her leg to the side carelessly with his knee and she wobbled, unable to hold all her weight with one trembling leg. As she fought for balance, she spat, “Vampires aren’t real. Get over yourself! I’m telling you one last time, leave me alone!”

It was refreshing that she had such a fighting spirit, he supposed. Most anyone would be in shambles, screaming and begging for their lives, but not she. While she was frightened, she was also valiantly trying to hide it. It was pointless because he could smell the fear in her blood, but the sentiment was appreciated.

He leaned in. She was small compared to him, but not overly short. Her petite form made her seem smaller than she was.

“I think you’re about to find out that you’re wrong,” he murmured. His sire often told him that it was a waste of time and energy to play with one’s food, but Mikhail had never quite been able to agree with that. Perhaps he was considered particularly sadistic for a vampire, but the smell and the taste of fear was of a pleasure equivalent to that of an orgasm. It had never affected him negatively in the past, so he saw no reason to forgo his favorite part of the hunt.

“Back off,” she replied quaveringly. Her momentary anger had completely dissipated in her fear and her harsh words betrayed her actual feelings.

Their noses were practically touching and she trembled with terror, but she never broke eye contact. In her own defiant way, she was daring him to try anything. It was a challenge. She obviously wasn’t thinking straight—at this point his victims were usually begging for their lives and crying hysterically. It was cemented in his mind then: she really was quite stupid. That, or she was reckless, which in his mind was practically the same thing.

Nevertheless, Mikhail never backed down from a challenge.

For a moment, he wanted to make her act like his previous victims. He wanted to cow her into submission, terrify her until she started crying like she should be and make her beg for her life. However, as much as he wanted to draw out the last part of his meal, being so close to her and hearing her blood pulsing through her veins, tasting her warm essence on his tongue, he found he could hold out no longer. The bloodlust overwhelmed him and with the deftness and speed of a viper, he latched onto her neck and pierced the skin with his fangs. All she could manage was a choked, surprised gasp before he viciously began to pull blood from her jugular.

The sensation of this feeding was unlike any he’d ever had, her flavor so rich and sweet that it made him dizzy. Before he knew it too much time had passed and she had gone limp, her pulse fluttering. There wouldn’t be enough left in her soon and she would die if he kept going.

He had no qualms about taking a life, especially if it was his meal’s because that was typically unavoidable, but at the sudden, simple thought that he would never taste her blood again, Mikhail was brought to pause.

Would it really hurt to let this one live? He didn’t have to keep her alive for too long, just till the end of his time in Canton. It was more than likely that he’d never find blood like this again—what was the harm in taking the time to enjoy it fully?

Making his decision abruptly, he pulled away from her neck and lapped at the bite mark, savoring the last traces he would taste that night and letting his saliva help the wound scab over. It would leave a nasty bruise and would serve to show her when she awoke that this encounter hadn’t been a bad dream. The mark would prove his existence to her—she couldn’t be allowed to forget him when he would be back to visit her many times before his vacation was over.

It was then that he realized he didn’t know her name, her address, or any of the details necessary to keep her in line. Annoying, but easily fixed.

Allowing her unconscious form drop to the ground carelessly, he retrieved the purse she’d unthinkingly dropped when he’d slammed her into the wall. Upon finding her ID, he was able to ascertain her name, age, address, and everything he would need for the future months he had of vacation.

Name: Sophie Hart. Age: 22. Address: 2027 Celestial Grove, Ste. 3.

There was more information, but most of it was easily discerned from simply meeting her, such as hair color, eye color, height, and so on. He noticed how her blood type was AB. How coincidental and yet unsurprising—AB had always been his favorite.

Tucking the ID back into her wallet and the wallet back into her purse, he observed the unconscious young woman in front of him. Looking at her more closely, he reasoned it was only natural that he desired her for more than just her delicious blood. She was curvaceous nearly to a fault, with a slim waist but wide hips and a generous bosom. Her face simply accentuated her already-pleasing body with full lips, a cute, feminine nose, and high cheekbones. She dressed strangely conservatively for her body—certainly she knew that if she took advantage of her looks, she could woo any man she wanted into submission?

Then again, it was perhaps for the best that she dressed as she did because he felt oddly possessive of her, disliking the thought of any other seeing what she had to offer. He considered the situation—he desired her, and it was distasteful to think of any other male knowing her that way. What did he have to lose if he decided to experience all she had to offer? He had never experienced this kind of possessiveness in the past, at least not towards a living being, so it somewhat unsettled him that he was feeling it now. However, it was a useless thought and so he pushed it from his mind.

His thoughts trailed back to the two young men. For their sakes, he hoped that neither were romantically attached to her, because the last thing he was going to do was share. This Sophie Hart only had a month or two left until her inevitable expiration by his hand and he intended to make the most of it. There was no way he would permit her to be with another man.

Mikhail hoisted the unconscious girl up and took to the rooftops again, trying to call up on what little he knew of Canton so far to get an idea of where she lived. It would not do to have someone seeing him carrying a limp body, especially given how battered she looked. In all honesty, he hadn’t hurt her much, but the blood from her hand had caked and dried and her clothes were dirty from her fall. All in all, she was a bit of a mess. Then there was the mark on her neck. To those who did not believe in vampires, the bruise would be mistaken for strangulation.

Remembering her zip code from the ID card, he found that with a little wandering he found the direction that led to her apartment. He smirked when he realized that she had been purposely leading him away from her home. It was an easy matter to get there, and he climbed easily over the gates that guarded the community—he found they were townhomes, which was also very convenient, just like many things seemed to be in this situation. Less contact with neighbors meant less chance of being caught or discovered. The whole thing was turning out to be rather ideal and it all brought forth the thought of fate.

Pleased, he found her home with little issue and, withdrawing her keys from her purse, entered the abode.

It was a small but pleasant place to live. A single bed in a single room on the second story and the lack of any other strong human scents signified that she lived alone, which made things, yet again, so much simpler. Upon entering her room, he laid her on her bed. Leaving her there, he checked the refrigerator and found that while she did not have orange juice, something ideal for someone who’d just had the majority of their blood drained, she had a few other helpful drinks and foods that would aid a quick recovery. Still, she would need to purchase certain foods to help spur on her blood production.

Deciding that his job—making sure she healed quickly and was full of blood to spare for a later date—was sufficiently completed, Mikhail went on to a slightly more pressing matter.

He’d never left a victim alive before, but he knew logically that someone who survived an attack would want to tell someone—anyone—about what had happened for fear of it happening again. His prey could not be allowed such liberties.

In the end, it was a simple matter of threatening her friend’s lives. Since she’d brought them home first, he had a good idea of where they lived and it would be easy to eliminate them. A quick, scrawled note outlining the threat that would result in her silence concerning her attack, as well as orders about what to eat for a speedy recovery, was posted to the refrigerator. For her friend’s sakes, he hoped she found the note before she said anything because he was completely willing to kill one of them as an example to make sure she understood the severity of her situation. If in the more likely case she told the police, he wasn’t worried. She’d likely be sworn to silence despite her situation—the government was very strict on keeping the existence of vampires a secret.

Convinced that his prey’s compliance was ensured, Mikhail locked her door from the interior and then left through the window, leaving it open so she knew that the attack, the threat, and his ongoing presence in her life were not figments of her imagination.

Thoroughly satisfied with this new turn of events, Mikhail was not averse to taking a leisurely stroll back to his hotel room on the opposite side of town.