He came early Tuesday night, his anticipation running too high to wait until exactly nine o’clock. The scent of his prey’s blood was irresistible and he craved it with every bone in his body, even though he had fed just the night before. His fangs ached at the mere thought of her and his claws threatened to lengthen with the thrill of the hunt; he had been unable to stay away for long Monday evening, and he had ended coming back to her apartment after feeding.

He steadfastly ignored the way he seemed to gravitate towards her. It was not a line of thought he was willing to examine too closely.

Their Tuesday night rendezvous couldn’t have come soon enough in his opinion. He was outside her house at eight, watching her silently from an inconspicuous perch on the tree ten or so feet away from her bedroom window. His keen vision ensured he didn’t miss a single thing.

For once, she didn’t notice that he was there and it was fascinating to watch her act normally. Then again, perhaps not normally, he thought with an amused smirk. She was fretting, pacing back and forth in her room and gnawing on her plump bottom lip. It wasn’t hard to guess that her anxiety was connected to his upcoming visit. Her blood, sweetened with fear, was calling to him, tempting him with every passing moment. It grew harder and harder to resist showing up early.

Then, fifteen minutes before he was to reveal himself, she suddenly stopped pacing and her face lit up as though struck with an ingenious idea and the fear in her blood dissipated, much to his disappointment and also intrigue. He raised an eyebrow curiously, wondering what exactly she had come up with that made her think she could possibly escape him.

It became clear when she gathered her new phone, wallet, and purse, tightened the scarf she had intelligently wrapped around her neck, slipped on her shoes, and left the house, locking it soundly behind her.

She thought that by not being present when he told her to be there would get save her? That was foolish and so very, very naïve. She was his now; he had decided to keep her alive, something that he’d never done before. Did she really think that such a simple tactic would change his mind?

He almost laughed aloud at how ridiculous the notion was as he leapt down from his perch on the tree. She was interesting, he had to admit, despite her stupidity.

She was walking swiftly, too preoccupied with getting away to notice him heading her way. Once she had gotten off the sidewalk and was reaching the gate, he sped up and stopped directly in front of her, unable to stop his smirk when she shrieked in fear at his sudden appearance.

“Going somewhere?” he asked smugly. Her breath caught in her throat and she simply stared at him in pure, unadulterated horror. Her fear spiked deliciously.

When she said nothing, he took a step forward, which she quickly responded to by taking several steps backwards. “I’ll scream,” she whispered with feigned courage. “They’ll see you and they’ll lock you up. Leave me alone.” Her voice was pleading with him, even though she probably didn’t mean for it to be.

“Good luck with that,” he replied nonchalantly. “Even if they could catch me, I’ll make sure you’re suitably repaid for disobeying me… ” He trailed off meaningfully, a smirk playing at his lips.

She paled visibly, all the blood draining from her face. Without thinking, she took another step backwards.

Satisfied, he walked past her in the direction of her townhome, deftly grabbing her wrist as he passed her with the intent of dragging her back. Sophie let out a stifled whimper but made no more efforts to scream, although he had to yank her along at times when she tried to slow the pace.

“Please,” she said softly, “Please leave me alone.” Her voice was so quiet that if it hadn’t been for his keen hearing, he wouldn’t have heard her.

“I’ve gone to too much trouble for you,” he replied tonelessly, and it was the only answer he was going to give. She whimpered at the response and he could smell the salt of her tears marring the sweet scent of her blood. He almost wanted to tell her to stop crying, but he knew it was a futile command.

They reached her home quickly enough and he released her, motioning to the door and implying for her to unlock it. With trembling hands, she did so and he could tell that she was tempted to shut it in his face before he entered. He corrected this unwise attempt by slamming his palm against the wooden panel as it swiftly began to close and shooting her a threatening glare, at which she blanched and hastily hurried all the way inside. He followed her, making sure to lock the door behind him. If she tried something so daring as to run, locking the door would only serve to be one more thing to slow her down. From her wary glance at the door when the lock clicked into place, he knew she understood the reasoning behind his actions.

She didn’t have a chance at outrunning him anyways, but part of the hunt was the mind games and they were his favorite.

“Did you really think that running would serve any purpose?” he asked with mild interest as he made his way into her living room and took a seat upon her navy blue couch, easily making himself at home.

She stood stiffly by the kitchen a good few yards away from him, watching him with guarded, fearful eyes. “I had to try,” she responded at length, and her words held a good deal of conviction.

He raised his eyebrows and smiled scathingly. “I suppose you did, didn’t you?” he replied in a tone that required no response. She said nothing for a long time, but when she spoke, her next words genuinely surprised him.

“If you’re really a vampire,” she started uncertainly, “then all I can think of is that you’re here for my blood.” She paused, taking a deep breath before continuing with more strength in her tone. “So why don’t you get it over with?”

He was shocked into scorning laughter, the audacity of her attitude pleasing him in a way it normally didn’t. She looked disconcerted at his response, which slowly bled into fear when his laughter died down and he narrowed his eyes at her contemplatively.

“Unfortunately for you, vampires can have interests other than food,” he replied, innuendo clear in his tone as he eyed her pleasing body. She wasn’t wearing her blue waitress uniform, having changed into a conservative red top and form-fitting gray sweatpants.

It took a few moments for the implication to truly sink in. “No,” she spat angrily. “No! I won’t be some-some kind of toy for you!”

He sneered viciously. “At what point did I give you the idea that you had a choice?”

Sophie took a large step away from him when he stood. “No! I refuse! Get out of my house or I’ll scream, you bastard!”

Blatantly ignoring her insult, he felt the niggling of an unfamiliar feeling of lust as he took notice of her heaving chest, but he said nothing in response. He stood and began to advance on her. Immediately, she was dashing for the door, lips parted to release a scream.

It only took a mere second before he was pressing her up against the wall, her back to his chest. She managed to let out a brief cry for help but he quickly wrapped a clawed hand around her mouth, muffling her desperate words.

She fit so perfectly against him, her rear pressing teasingly into his groin and her generous breasts forcing her back to arch against his chest. Mikhail couldn’t resist burying his nose into her hair, inhaling her delicious, intoxicating scent. It was as though something had possessed him; he’d never had such a strong response to any woman before. She hadn’t stopped her muffled screaming, and her thrashing was incessant, but he ignored these factors in favor of gently grasping her throat, stroking the soft skin with his claws.

She stilled at the touch of his hand, soft puffs of air from her nose tickling his knuckles. She was trying not to hyperventilate, he realized.

“Delicious,” he murmured into her ear, nipping the lobe with a single fang and drawing the slightest amount of blood. Lapping up the little droplet, he felt a sudden surge of bloodlust—it proved harder to contain that he would have liked, but in the end he was able to force it down in favor of relishing the moment.

He yanked her away from the wall and she immediately started thrashing again, kicking and screaming and pulling at his hand to stop it from containing her cries. He heedlessly dragged her further into the house.

Despite her resistance, he was easily able to maneuver her in such a way that she was led to the couch. He forced her down to lie down, following quickly.

“Get off me!” she hissed, shoving at his chest, but there were tears in her eyes even as she tried to push him away. “Get off of me!” she demanded with all the indignant fury she could muster.

Ignoring her commands, he covered her mouth again and used his body weight to force her to stay still, pinning her wrists together with his other hand and pulling them above her head. While she was not particularly weak for a female human, her struggles were futile against his species-augmented strength. “This doesn’t have to be difficult,” her murmured once she had finally been strong-armed into submission. “It could actually turn out to be… quite enjoyable for the both of us.” His eyes glinted hungrily.

Sophie only glared at him furiously, making a pointless effort to knee him in the groin. Effortlessly, he spread her thighs at their junction with his knees, effectively disarming her, and ground his hips against hers; at the display of his arousal, all at once the façade of anger turned into true fear and tears were spilling from her eyes. He himself felt a shiver of pleasure in a certain part of his anatomy.

Suddenly fascinated by the wet trails streaming down her cheeks, he leaned down and licked the length of one of the tracks of her tears. He found the salty taste not to his liking.

Despite this, he suddenly found he wanted to touch her, explore her body, but with both hands occupied, it seemed it would be a difficult endeavor. Mikhail was aware that should she scream loud enough and for a long enough period of time, she might actually be able to attract unwanted attention. Allowing her to make noise wasn’t ideal for his intentions.

The solution to his problem came easily enough. Glad that for once he had worn a belt, he momentarily uncovered her mouth and removed the leather garment. She screamed loudly, her panic giving her new, almost unbearable volume, and he hastily the cinched the belt tight around her wrists, forcing her arms behind her head in such an angle that it would be difficult to use them.

“Get off of me! Get off of me! Let me go, you perverted freak!” she yelled heatedly, desperately. He ignored her, gladly covering her mouth once again and quickly moving on to more important activities.

Savoring the moment, he fondled her full breasts through the thin fabric of her shirt. Her breasts were supple and perky, and he found that he rather liked the feel of them. Craving to see more of her lush form, he shredded through her top easily until the front was ripped thoroughly and her breasts, barely contained by the skimpy lace bra she wore, were displayed for his perusal.

His groin tightened uncomfortably at the sight of her heaving chest combined with the intoxicating scent of her fear filling the air. Pulling the bra aside, he ignored the way her breath hitched in terror and latched onto a pert bud, rolling his tongue over the peak until her nipple stiffened. There was an interesting flavor to her skin; it was much like the taste of her blood, but with a floral aftertaste. Interest growing, he nipped at her bared flesh with a fang, drawing blood. She let out a panicked cry of pain as he pulled the droplets of crimson liquid from the small puncture wound thirstily, bruising her skin darkly. It was becoming harder to deny himself her honeyed blood.

At length he pulled away from her, making quick work of the bra by snapping it down the middle just because it made the scent of her fear triple in intensity. He was fully ready to taste her blood again—the little bit he’d had removed all thoughts of physical lust from his mind—when a memory, unbidden, came to his mind.

‘Nothing tastes better than blood after an orgasm,’ his comrade, a vampire named Raphael, had once told him. Mikhail had never considered going to such effort to for the sake of food, but with this half-naked young woman he’d claimed as his own lying beneath him, he wondered if it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to find out.

In a moment of impulsivity, he grasped the waistband of her sweatpants and pulled them down to her knees. Her screams somehow became louder despite his hand and she renewed her efforts to fight back. It was growing tiresome, this struggling, and he finally had had enough.

“Keep fighting and I’ll happily mangle that pretty friend of yours,” he hissed, irritated by her fighting. When Sophie refused to listen and continued screaming, he elaborated. “I’m sure you know the one. Short little redhead who works with you? She looks like she’d make a nice treat.”

His prey’s eyes widened almost comically at the threat. When her struggles ceased and helpless tears flowed as a sign of her surrender, Mikhail ripped through her panties, baring nearly her entire body for him to see.

“I trust you’ll have the intelligence to stay quiet,” he said, the threat thinly veiled. She only closed her eyes, but when he removed his hand her lips stayed pursed together tightly even though she couldn’t stop the low whines of withheld terror coming from the back of her throat. He decided that was as good as it was going to get.

Mikhail spread her lower lips and rubbed her hot core slowly, gently. She stiffened beneath him, her body trembling from the weight of her fear and disgust. He could smell it on her; she was repulsed by his actions. It didn’t matter though—he knew enough about human biology that her body’s reactions would not always reflect her thoughts on his actions.

At random intervals, he used his claw the tickle her sensitive nub. The first time, she couldn’t help but jerk at the touch, but soon after she found the willpower to control her reactions. She was breathing more heavily, and despite her unwillingness, he could smell a trace of arousal in her scent.

It didn’t matter that she was resistant. He had all the time in the world. Only a short time had passed since their return to her home, and he all night to get the reaction he wanted out of her.

Then, suddenly, her hips jerked in response to his hand. He couldn’t help the wide smirk on his face; he smelled her arousal clearly now. The sweet scent had his groin pulsing with need.

He sped up the motions, paying special attention to her most responsive areas. The scent strengthened and he relished it, her arousal almost as sweet and tempting as her blood. He could feel slickness growing from her core and once he deemed her wet enough, he slipped a single clawed finger inside of her.

She whined and he knew it was one of pain. She was tight, so tight—but she was also slick and pliant, her heat warming his cool fingers almost instantly. With a few quick movements he found the bundle of nerves that would be her undoing and soon she was panting despite herself.

Watching her breathe haltingly and feeling her small, involuntary jerks against his hand, Mikhail couldn’t help but feel that he’d made a very good choice by choosing this woman as his.