Demon Moon

faint cry of pain and fear cut through the noise of the passing cars, the human conversations.
    Colin frowned, turning toward the sound. None of the humans reacted; none had likely heard it. Only Colin—and the vampire, whose fists clenched at his sides. The cry had originated beyond the vampire, at least a couple of blocks farther down the street—and the vampire’s psyche had not projected concern or surprise, but had flared hot with jealousy.
    The mental probe Colin sent toward the sound was stronger than his initial scan, and he immediately sensed another presence—a female. Older than the first vampire, and better able to shield her mind.
    Outside the rental shop, Colin’s cinnamon-skinned prey paused, then stared at him. Bloody hell. Colin flashed a charming smile, but, to human eyes, he must have appeared to vanish an instant later. Colin didn’t detect any indication that the male vampire had seen him move, either; perhaps the male had had a moment’s glance in the wrong direction and missed Colin’s dash down the street.
    Just as well. Colin halted at the mouth of an alley—more of a small enclave between two buildings, backed by a brick wall—and in the darkness easily discerned the vampire, her long auburn hair and black dress. She stood over a raggedly-dressed figure lying twisted in the rear corner of the enclave.
    The odor of human blood hung thick in the air—a large quantity of blood. The stench of new death slowly rose beneath it, and the fetid scent of a long-unwashed body.
    Colin silently stepped from the pavement into the shadowed alley.
    The vampire startled, her hand flying to her chest as she whirled around. Then her face relaxed into a smile that, two hundred years earlier and without an introduction, Colin would have thought presumptuous. She might have recognized him, but he did not know her. Did not wish to know her.
    “You were right,” she said, and Colin’s gaze fell to her chest. Blood stained the bodice of her dress.
    “I often am,” Colin murmured as he moved past her and crouched next to the corpse. “Pray tell me, however, what I have said that inspired this ?”
    She laughed, a studied trill from her starlet’s lips. “That we ought not to be limited to our bloodsharing partners. That the humans ought to be ours for taking and feeding.”
    Her bloodlust was still strong within her; whatever she thought humans ought to be, she had not finished feeding from this one. Excitement coiled from her psychic scent, along with a swelling of pride, of power. And she deliberately projected reverence toward Colin, coupled with admiration. Was she attempting to flatter him?
    With a tug on the threadbare military jacket, Colin rolled the body over. The man’s throat had been torn open. The front of his trousers had been shredded, and his penis had not yet lost its tumescence. “I daresay he must have taken to you whilst you fed.” He glanced up at her breasts, her face, and he stood. “Though I cannot comprehend why.”
    Her laughter trilled again, as if she’d assumed his statement was a jest, but her mouth quickly tightened into a grimace. “I thought his fear would prevent his lust,” she said.
    No. For some, a scare only increased their ardor. In the past two centuries, Colin had purposely frightened a few humans—but he never fed from them. He almost always chose a person that he found attractive in some manner, someone he wouldn’t resent fucking; he’d never considered killing them to prevent the sex…though obviously this female had. And her psychic scent revealed that she’d enjoyed it.
    “What of your partner?” Colin asked softly. “Will he have his turn next?”
    “He does not want one. He only watches, so that no one happens upon me as I feed. But I will not have to concern myself with exposure in the future; I had not realized how easily humans are disposed of. No one will miss a beggar.” She placed her hand on his arm, and her long nails slid down his corduroy sleeve. “My consort does not like that I sought blood elsewhere, but his attachment to me is much more powerful than mine to him.” Her fingers circled his wrist, and her bloodlust burned hotter. “You are warm.”
    Her touch was cool; Colin did not think it unpleasant, except that it was hers. “I am,” he said.
    “The others who have fed from you have said that your blood is dark and powerful.”
    “Have they?” Brittle amusement curled his lips. He could not imagine with whom