In the empty streets of New Orleans roams a monster. Everyone knows it.
A few miles away from the safe human houses a man walks, pacing in imposing confident strides.
His boots tap angrily against the concrete, he is alone in the darkness of the night, one without stars brimming in the skies.
In his hand, he carries a bottle nonchalantly, a bottle of fine bourbon, surprisingly expensive and half-empty.
The perfect white color of the male's shirt is stained with crimson blood, like the side of his bloody mouth.
His aura had living creatures running away before he can get closer, not a hiss going unheard by his acute senses.
As he reaches the main intersection of the park, his prey finally comes into view.
And even if he's already fought one of the main battles tonight, taking over twenty lives on his own, the hatred within him makes him strive for more.
The woman, apparently in her forties is sitting on the border of a fountain, wrapped in her coat on such a chilly and humid night. She gazes the other way, drawing absent patterns on the water surface with her finger tips.
The broad shouldered man halts his march and takes into the view for a moment, he can hear the air softly expending her ribcage and then being rejected out only to repeat the process again. His predatory movements are quite. He takes a few moments to think it over before he finally makes a decision.
His chin tilts back and his eyebrows fall further down above his eyes, a determined yet morbid look on his face, his features stone cold and unemotional.
In a flash he is standing behind the humming human, palm gripping at the nape of the back of her neck, fingers curling around the sides and he forces her head down.
The woman gasps, not having seen the force pushing her before her head is forcefully pushed inside the water.
She struggles uselessly, arms pushing at the edges of the with marble fountain, trying to bring her head up, knowing she won't last without breathing air for long.
Her body was pumping with adrenaline and fear, her mind working a thousand miles a second.
The man with pale skin and dirty blond hair keeps a poker face, cold as ice, unreadable, the only sound in the emptiness the woman's struggling.
He isn't doing this out of hunger, or for fun, if he was he would have sunk his teeth deep into the victim's delicate skin, ripping the artery open, drinking her life away. But he is only doing this to pass a message, so he doesn't, holding the woman in place without much effort, making sure to look straight forward.
When the last breath skips out the lady's system, and death pokes at her, she stops struggling, eyes wide with fear underwater, the only thing to breath being liquid. So she stills and once he hears her heart stop beating, and feels life slip out of her he retracts his hand, which has busted bloody knuckles, already starting to heal by now.
He looks down at his victim, through half fallen lids, lips pressed in a tight line.
Until he hears it. Another heartbeat.
A shiver runs down his spine knowing exactly who it was, but not looking up yet.
A mile away, a cold young woman is watching, horrified.
Her slender tall frame in standing there, arms wrapped around her frail body.
She was lean, her only flaw being her body that was probably a little too skinny.
She ironically in covered by a white dress, made of soft silk material.
She has long wavy obsidian black hair, contrasting with her porcelain skin. She owns large emerald eyes, open wide in fear, and contoured by thick dark lashes.
Jade's whole body trembles, and the vampire listens to her heart thud harshly in her chest.
She lets out a soft breath when he lifts his eyes to meet hers, stone cold as always, the innocence and fright inside of hers making him weak.
Klaus only nodded in acknowledgement.
Jade was his prisoner forever, because no longer how much time it took she would be his, but would he break her, fill her with insanity and pass her his madness in the process or would she be able to redeem his soul, and take him off the claws of the darkness? Only time would tell…
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