He watched her from the shadows, studying her every movement, her every breath. She was a pretty little thing, endless blonde hair that shone in the silver light from the moon, large blue eyes lined with thick black lashes and full plump lips. She was tottering along in black heels and a short skirt, giggling with her friends, quite obviously drunk.

Damien shifted slightly, from one leg to the other. He was still crouched down low, well out of her line of sight, choosing the perfect time to strike. He could smell her from here; her scent was so enticing, so tempting, it teased him. It beckoned him over, calling his name alluringly on a light breeze. He would ignore it though.

'Poppy,' one of her friends giggled as she stumbled over. 'My dad's gonna kill us! Why...why did you let me get this drunk?!'

'Hey it wasn't me,' the one called Poppy frowned. She was a lot more sober than the others, but still pretty out of it. 'You were with that guy half the night, he was buying you the drinks!'

Damien moved from one shadow to the next, blending easily. They had no idea he was there. They wouldn't stand a chance anyway. He was the predator, they were his prey.

They rounded the corner of the alleyway, one of them tripped again, falling in her heels. Damien chose this moment to appear.

'Need any help?' he offered in a smooth tone, using all his charm. He watched their faces turn towards them, the infinitesimal widening of their eyes, their perfectly sculpted lips falling into a small 'O' and then the natural quickening of their heart, the rushing of their blood. He could spot the throbbing vein on her neck, pulsing with the blood that he constantly desired. The never ending burning hunger, always raging, always tormenting.

'She's being silly,' Poppy giggled, the blood rushing to her cheeks.

Her friend frowned at her, embarrassed.

'Let me help you,' Damien offered the girl on the floor his hand, pure white alabaster in the darkness that surrounded them all. She took it, blushing. 

Then he struck.

One quick, fluid motion was all it took. A simple jerk of her delicate neck and it was broken. The others didn't have time to scream as Death came for them after. It was only Poppy left. She was stood, struck with horror. Her eyes were on her friends, laying dead and motionless on the concrete floor.

Damien took a step towards her, smiling. She backed away, against the wall, and began sobbing fitfully, pleading for her life. It didn't make any difference to him, whether she begged or not. The only thing he cared about was the treasure that she held: her blood.

He grabbed her by the shoulders, locking her firmly in place. His head darted to her throat, his tongue licked the skin, getting a taster. It was just like he had imagined. His fangs ached longingly. 

Then he bit her.

The End

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