Disclaimer: I don't own much of anything...certainly not Twilight. I'm too poor to own anything besides my POS car. It gets me where I need to go and nothing more. This story... well, it was inspired by a Flash Fic Friday picture prompt via the Lemonade Stand. The 'Infinity and Beyond' prompt, Remember that one? Sadly, my little story ended up being too long to be considered, but heck, I decided to post it here anyway.

This is unbeta'ed because I'm impatient, so any and all mistakes are mine, and mine alone- grammar be damed. Darkward ahead- be warned.

Pretty Little Prey

Most of my kind would refer to her as a snack, a cute little appetizer.

Pretty little prey.

Dark eyes against fair skin, she was indeed attractive.

Her pupils dilated when our eyes met. Her heart beat faster. A sumptuous nectar ran through her veins that made me wildly hungry, made me ache for her.

I had to have her.

Approaching with a swagger and a smirk I planned to use my thrall to lure her in. To take her, fuck her, drink her.

I was convinced she would be the sweetest thing I would ever taste.

Her smile transformed me, her touch beguiled me, her quick wit made me laugh. Made me laugh. I was not a joyous man; any smiles you spied on my lips were forced- a farce- a way to seduce my meals and nothing more.

This woman ripped me into pieces. My impulses were screaming for me to feed, warring with a sharp inner monologue reminding me to be easy with her- she was human after all. Her sheer fragility suddenly frightened me, light passes of my fingertips on her arm were all that I would allow myself.

While she touched me freely, generously. I reveled in it. I soaked it in and willed away my thirst.

I spoke to her, flirted subtly and wished her sweet dreams before she went home alone.

This girl had turned me into a gentleman. I hadn't been one of those in a very long time.

I knew then that she was mine. I just...knew. There was something deep within my dead bones that came alive in her presence. She made me feel, heat blooming on my skin wherever she touched me, her warmth lingering on my skin long after she left.

This new gentleman version of myself was patient and sweet. I never let her see my annoyance at her uncertainty- the unfounded insecurity she carried. I hid my pain and jealousy when she let herself be carried away in youthful curiosity and hormones- spending time with other men.

I wanted to kill them all. The gentleman me wouldn't allow it.

I wanted her to choose me. I had never wanted anything more. The gentleman played his role, courted her, and gave her time. Time was something I could give in masses.

She must come to me. She would, in time.

Still, I watched through her window like a stalker. I looked on as she took another man into her bedroom.

He spoke to her with inconsequential words, his voice rough with desire. "I want you," he said, his hands grabbing at her, squeezing her tender flesh with a roughness that made me seethe with rage.

How fucking dare he?

The scene before me was more horrific than the most gruesome of murders, and I had seen my fair share. More than you can imagine.

But I understood that she needed this.

She needed to feel another's skin against hers to understand that he wasn't what she truly wanted.

Not even close.

It was a miracle that I managed to stay still when their lips touched, their bodies collided.

It was my finest moment. My ultimate sacrifice to remain still and let that happen, to let her test herself.

Etched into the skin of her ribs in black ink were the words, to infinity.

What a joke.

On his ribs the words, and beyond

He was her childhood friend, her highschool sweetheart. I understood her connection to the boy, she had grown up with him, loved him for a time...

That was over. It had been for years. She didn't love him anymore, not like she loved me. She just didn't realize it yet.

I planned his death a thousand times as his fingers dug into her skin. In every fantasy I tortured him slowly. I would gladly send him beyond.

Then I would give her true infinity.

I clung to the hope that someday those impetuous words would be burned from her body by my venom.

I burned all over again as I watched her tempt fate.

I was then reborn as she pulled away, guilt painting her features.

Her words so simple and so apt.

"This is wrong. We are wrong," she told him and she meant it.

She wasn't even wet for him.

I could smell her from where I stood, and my senses drew in her shame like victory.

She didn't cry a single tear for him. She pushed him off, pulled herself up and asked him to leave.

He did, although reluctantly and I followed, taking the greatest of pleasure as I came up from behind and crushed his skull.

I warned him not to touch what was mine.