The watery orange glow of the evening sun seeped in through the crack in the curtains, filling the room with a gentle smoldering haze. He winced, hissing slightly, dragging the curtains together and stumbling backwards. He was weak- pale and sick. The familiar itching of his skin was driving him insane and the desperate need to feed was beginning to blaze deep within him. It had been two weeks since he last fed properly; the blood of a young woman, rich and full. He whimpered desperately at the memory of the taste.
He was disgusted by himself – so fragile, so tenuous. He glanced at the clock. 17:43pm. It would be dark soon, he thought. The comfort of the darkness would give him all the time he needed to break away from the confines of his apartment and go in search of his next victim. He bit down in frustration, grinding his teeth at the thought of having to seduce his way into another woman's bed. He never killed. But scarred. He had scarred so many in his need for blood. Then he would flee the apartment, back into the shrouds of the dark night, whilst the woman lay unconscious, crimson liquid pooling around her.
He was vulgar and unearthly; he deserved to be damned to the depths of hell, along with those of his kind that were even crueler than himself. Those that killed. He shuddered, holding his heavy head in his hands as it pounded. He winced, as a sudden burst of pain riddled his body – the hunger was beginning to grip him. He shut his eyes, squeezing them closed as he let the pain pass through him. He counted to ten and then to twenty, he counted to one hundred and fifty before the burning began to ebb.
He stood, legs shaking and grabbed at his coat. The night was closing in and soon he would be able to leave. His mind wandered to thoughts of smooth, pale flesh. The feel of his lips travelling up to a woman's neck, teeth grazing against her pulse. He shoved his hands deep inside the pockets of his coat, clenching them tightly as he walked for his apartment and began to make his way down the winding stairs and out into the bitter chill of the winter air.
Liam thought that tonight would be like any other night; he would pick up a pretty girl, go back to their apartment, feed and leave. He had practiced it over and over – gotten it down to a fine art. But tonight was going to be so very different for both he and a young man named Zayn Malik.