You felt her breathing on your neck and you wondered how – in your many years of being solely a vicious predator - you let yourself become the prey.
She was the true predator, you remind yourself. Your short skirts and your flirty looks were nothing to her power.
Nothing to the golden eyes freezing and stalking your every move, your every breath. Nothing to the quiet, low growl you could hear rumbling in her chest. Nothing to her real power – the animal beneath her pale skin and the blood long cleaned from her red lips.
The primal force pulling you in, locking your eyes on her, convincing every attempt to reason you had left that she was in control of this – that was the work of a real predator.
You, at last, were the prey.
And oh, what a beautiful way to die it was to be devoured by those lips of hers, even if they could in fact crush your bones and break your skin. Those, you thought, were a nice way to end.
You didn't have much to live for - you try and convince yourself, as she approaches with those slow steps and those hungry eyes. You weren't living much of a life, night after night, just waiting for the next man to buy you a drink and fuck you in a different corner of this miserable town.
You aren't leaving much behind. Not your father, because you don't recall a single good memory of him. Not your friends, as the only person who ever claimed to have known you before is this one in front of you and what a painful irony.
And not him. The man who abandoned you the second he heard the rumors you were involved with her.
"She's an animal, you know?" He'd said to you, pointing that shaking bony finger at your face.
God, you can remember how he smelled like that night; like tears and alcohol and potion. He was broken and furious, and you are lucky you lived to remember that awful conversation.
"You say you like darkness, but I'm afraid hers will not spare you, dearie. She has nothing to offer you. Not like I did. Like I always did, for all these years!"
He'd screamed and his voice had broken. You remember trying hard to keep your eyes on him – he was not a much pleasant view, with red eyes and torn clothes. "She'll take all you have and she'll leave you with nothing! That is, if she ever leaves you at all. You know wolves, don't you? They only leave the bones."
And he was right. Oh, how he was right. She would only leave your bones here, on this dirty alley. She'd give you nothing and she'd take everything. She was an animal.
But so were you.
Only, this time she was stronger.
This time you weren't two dangerously horny people breaking tables and beds, tearing sheets and shirts, fucking each other to their last breathless scream. This time, she wouldn't leave you panting in the heat of your own sweat.
She would finally and truly kill you – a suiting end for all the times you thought you would die on her fingertips and break apart against her tongue.
That was the kind of animal she really was. The bigger one, the scarier one, the stronger one. The real one.
You close your eyes when you feel her hands on your ribs. She's sinking her nails on you and you suck a sharp breath, trying to silence the beating of your heart only to hear her.
She's growling again, like she always growls when she's about to come - and you think maybe this is just a sick source of pleasure to her. Maybe she enjoys petrifying you to death and watching you practically beg for the final blow. Mercy!
Yet, she would growl deeper and harder when she would make you come, so you think maybe this is just one of two of her likings.
You wish she'd choose the one where you live in the end, if only so you can go through all this terror again, indulging her one more time.
It's thrilling and you know how wrong it is to get excited about that. You're about to die – no, you're about to be eaten alive by the most gorgeous woman you've ever had the fortune of meeting in this godforsaken town.
It's sick of you to want that, but what else would you want? You'd never find better sex, and that's a death sentence on its own; and you'd never care again about anything you once came closed to caring.
Not the money, not the men, not the nights, definitely not him, and not anyone else. It's a fitting end, to die at the hands of the only good thing that ever happened to you.
You didn't know you were smiling until she comments on it "Are you really smiling right now? " She laughs and it's both arousing and terrifying how her breath tickles your neck. "You are the weirdest one yet, you know that?"
"Well," you reply a bit too quickly. You are nervous and it would be absurd of you not to. "I can safely say you are the most fucked up."
"Says the girl smiling at the town's big bad wolf" Her hands travel up your body and your voice trembles. "If you weren't so interesting, I wouldn't feel bad about… this" Her golden eyes reflect the street light when they course over your body. This time, it's not as flattering as it is unnerving. You won't come back from this.
"This is you feeling bad, uh?" You scoff, trying not to sound desperate. "What a considerable little mutt" You mock the threat. Her eyes are back to yours and you feel her hand hold your throat.
The back of your head is thumped against the wall with the force. Gods, she was never delicate.
"Let your sharp, dirty tongue loose like that and I might enjoy it after all." She snaps her teeth so close to your face you can see the pink tongue rolling inside her mouth. That was a habit of hers, you've noticed with time.
When the tip of her tongue touches your lips, you urge yourself not to kiss her. This time, you remind your hazy thoughts, it is not like that.
"One thing." You breathe against her mouth and she makes space for you to talk. Not enough, you know. She doesn't really want you to talk. "Just, the last thing." You lick your lips and taste her. "Why now?"
There's a minute of silence and you let yourself be convinced that she's actually thinking about the answer. She is not, but it's a good final moment to pretend like she cares about your feelings.
Then, she clicks her tongue and looks up, like she's decided to make you believe that she's thinking. Oh, she's hopeless.
"I guess…" She begins and you wait, patiently and impatiently, because you really want this to be over, but you need to hear her say it.
If she can say it, you can go. You can die, not like a freak who rejoices on the idea of their imminent death —but like an idiot, who was too charmed by her killer to fight back and plead for her life.
You were the one who followed her here.
"I guess it's only natural that it ends like this." Her voice is low and careful. "It's what I am and it's what you are." She says it so gently that it almost sounds reasonable. Almost. "The time had to come, sooner or later. And you have to admit, it was later than most."
You know.
You always knew. You've known it since the day you first left her arms alive.
You've known it since she met you again and you lived to see her a second and a third time. You've lost track now.
It's because you knew it that you're here: asking her why it took her so long. You almost thought you would be the first to get away. Almost.
"You're an animal" You whisper when you feel her teeth on your neck. She hums an amused agreement and it's your last clear thought that he was right.
You don't want to think about him at the very end, so you close your eyes and force yourself to experience the approaching death. Not many know when it's their time and at least you were given this luxury. You may as well enjoy it.
But she stops.
Her teeth don't sink and she's backing away.
Her hands grab your quivering face with a kindness that is new to her. You feel her lips on yours and the next time you open your eyes, you are alone.
In the alley you followed her to, you are whole. One living piece. A breathing mess of the coldest sweat. And you know – she's left you to live.
Again.