Chapter 2: Night Creepers
Anaya hurried through the back door into the dark and oil-slicked alley, taking little effort to bunch her leg muscles together and ascend the wall to land on the adjacent building, stalking her prey. The heightened view widened her advantage of scoping the landscape to any oncoming trouble.
She wondered what possessed her mutant gene to give her the strange qualities of a vampire. Why not something great like... flying or invisibility? She would even have merit if she claimed the whole power of telepathy rather than the watered down version given to her; the ability to read thoughts and not much else.
Her creation might as well taunt actual vampires of their faults, if any existed in real life. Here lied the near-perfect breed of their race, mocking everything they stood for and she didn't undergo death to become one. The night walker's general weaknesses didn't apply to her, except for blood lust, excessive strength, and turning people via a bite.
Unlike most the undead, she can stand and stomach normal food lacking any nasty after effects. Yet if deprived of her life source spanning over a lengthy time, the thirst peaked. If she carried on in neglect of ripping someone's throat out, she craved red meat. The red venison sufficed until she got her hands on succulent flesh, but she preferred the original pickings. But none of it mattered. She stalked above two specimens with the potential to steer her towards her goal.
Nothing could explain the sweet, rejuvenating bliss when she suckled fresh, ruby juice, sensing an invigorating elation pour into her veins. On a good run, she survived a full week omitting the sustenance to tie her over.
"Three weeks without feeding," she harrumphed, "I'm really starting to push myself."
It nurtured a habit, she reflected, how the perpetrators she sunk her teeth into had similarities regardless of societal interference. Whether the meal she cornered had thirty or thirty million dollars to their name, their blood held a noticeable taint within it.
Without a soul like hers, the scumbags of the earth―that nobody would miss―claimed a smaller stake. The degenerates (murderers, rapists and drug dealers) remained a staple in the world, just in different formats, either slumming as a poor addict or as one with cash lining their pockets. They evolved and changed with technological changes, making corruption easier for the depraved to thrive.
These same crooks had foul-tasting plasma.
A trait of hers, taking decades to hone, allowed her the comfort to "sniff out" the good blood from the bad. Diseases escalated in correlation with narcotics abuse, and more than once did she find herself on the wrong end of faulty crimson liquid. Sweetened, salty, acid, thick, thin, or clumpy blood were obvious signs the carrier housed an illness or abused drugs.
Once she pinpointed her target, it was hopeless for them to escape. Leaving the tainted person to plague the rest of the populace wasn't an option either. They often found themselves in the middle of an alley with their throats slit open, lifeblood mixing in with the dark asphalt to merge with the earth. She blamed it on her upbringing; sometimes holding onto these vicious tendencies.
Born in an era where ethics and morals did not exist had shaped her outlook. What had thought to be right and wrong wove together like two pieces of string, staying as such for decades until someone gathered courage to stand up and say no.
In her youth she killed people, a vengeful act to purge her suffering forced upon her for her first ten years of living. Her streak drove an insatiable lust, sneaking into houses at night to drain the vindictive of life, leaving their wives to wake up in the morning soaked in their spouse's blood.
An orphaned, mutant slave child growing up in the 1850's pushed her to survive, to disown her regret and humanity to see another day, be it stealing food from the local market to draining a worthless bastard dry. She had no direction towards positive reinforcement, or a parental figure to guide and console her. Nor did she have anyone to explain what went on with her, and what she could do about it. She wondered if death would befall her without her unique abilities.
The crimson liquid placed her hunger interval every four hours; succumbing to her thirst-laden rage where she bit into anything to satiate her urges. Often she woke up with no recollection of what she did or sucked the life out of. It scared her. She concluded her livelihood as a unique, lonesome individual, burdening herself into carrying on alone like this forever.
By some miraculous discovery did Anaya come to understand and embrace herself as a whole. And she did so upon the chance of running into a colonial, runaway bride named Valerie. The rest... is history.
Crickets halted their chirping. Birds of the night stopped their specialty calls. The wind restrained from blowing a cool, dusky breeze. Nature itself silenced its nightly ministrations; all to see what this strange, elusive woman intended to do.
The huntress jumped onto the next building, slowing her pace after the two drunken idiots shoved each other in the alley, conversing with slurred words about whose turn it is to pee and how much money the other owed.
Alcohol swimming in one's veins never tasted right, but it will tie her over until tomorrow. Still, the smartest option rested to go back inside and pick some fool up, take him in the restroom, and do the deed there.
However, the idea might require her to sweet talk a pitiful moron, so she opted to continue with her current plan.. Anaya's chest heaved, letting her nails extend and her canines lengthen. She readied to pounce on the unsuspecting drunks and call this evening to an end.
"Dude…you owe me…twenthy-twen…twenty dollars." A young blonde boy quipped into the night air, losing his footing several times trying to stand up and walk his way over to the other inebriated male.
"Piss of you mudderfucker, I-hiccup-got my own divorce to take-hiccup-to the zoo-" Before another word could leave the brunette's lips, the contents of his potatoes and meatloaf dinner left the safety of his stomach, pouring into the alley.
"Okay... I'll take the blonde one," Anaya's face pulled into a grimace, seeing the youth wretch his stomach out onto the floor. Upon closer inspection, she discerned young traits on their profiles, each having almost feminine-like features.
Babies. They're nothing but high-school babies being somewhere they had no business. It was safe to assume they agreed to sneak out of their comfortable homes and meet up for a boys' night out. In her heart, she felt a pang of remorse for the situation they trapped themselves in. An instance of the many 'let-them-be' adventures they won't be able to tell the children they never had.
Her legs pushed against the ground, hungry and ready to make her leap on the boy and end his forsaken life. Before she could pounce a tall, looming figure leapt towards her prey. She wasn't the only hunter on the hunt tonight.
Creed jumped on the blonde, pressing an elongated claw in the middle of his clavicle. Blood trickled out of the tear before shooting up in a geyser, the teenager reaching up to cover the wound with his hand. Gurgled, choking sounds erupted as the teen asphyxiated on his own blood; opening his mouth to release strangled air that never came.
He turned to the brunette that finished emptying his stomach, clearing his throat to alert the youth to his presence. The young man wiped his lips, looking the opposite way to see who called him. Creed huffed, grasping the boy in a headlock before sharply twisting his neck to the right.
Anaya narrowed her eyes from her spot on the roof, several jumbling thoughts swirling around in her head. Her conscious sprang to life, yelling at her to high-tail it to try this feeding thing again tomorrow. Another observation, probably coming from her womanly-wiles, sized up the male, taking in his broad build and rugged, handsome face.
Men don't move like that or kill with potent efficiency, clean with his attacks and lethal in its delivery. Could he... be a mutant? Is he like her, hiding from the hate humans radiated towards them and their kind?
After wiping some dirt off his trench coat, he beckoned to the woman with a bloodied claw.
Well, he has charisma.
No. No. No. Those 'kinds' are nothing but trouble. He's the enemy, remember. Flee the scene and try again tomorrow. Do not start a confrontation with him!
Her conscious sounded off clear. She couldn't match up to him, especially in her current state. Something about him emitted this dangerous quality, a strong sense of pride he wore like a perfume hugging his frame.
All though...
She did not frighten easy at the sight of a stocky bastard. Anaya killed a fair share of men bigger than him. But that's all they were. Mortal men. She hadn't faced off against a male mutant this large in stature before. Who knows, males often bluffed on their oh-so-fearsome presence and they loved to show off to women. With a firm nod she set her mind to meet this brutish creature, intending to supp him dry. On the chance he burdened her, she can retreat to safety. The outcome mirrored a suitable ending.
Gathering strength in her legs she leapt off the building, landing with a soft thud on the ball of her toes. Legs lengthened to her full height to appear stiff-lipped of his aura. Standing about ten feet away, his figure loomed over hers, creating this intimidating wall to her affront. Her vision left his to glance at the two bodies on the ground; the blonde man's neck smothered in blood and the brunette lying in his own dinner.
Her face pulled together in disgust with narrowed eyes, noticing him eyeing her body's curves. That echo in the back of her head scratched her brain, warning her to leave this instant. Instead she persisted, ignoring all the signs her conscious pushed her to do.
"Searching for something?" His voice rang deep, rumbling in his chest to bounce off the walls like he stood beside her. He held one of those heavy voices, the ones belonging to a rhythm and blues vocalist.
She shook her head before answering, clearing any bad habits Valerie left for her. "What'd you do that for?"
"Do what?"
"That," she stuck her chin out to point to the teens on the ground.
He followed the indicated direction, seeing her neck elongate in motion. A neck he desired to suckle on. "I wanted a chance to meet you."
That's his excuse? "Why didn't you say hello back in the bar?" Did he plan on meeting her for more nefarious means, because he could have walked to their table then.
"Needed a more... informal setting to do it in."
Anaya scrutinized their surroundings. A surrounding layered in the stench of piss and blood, of decay and grime and sweat, of alcohol and... someone's lurched dinner. Oh, this provided an intimate setting all right; something befitting for animals to dwell in.
Dark clouds shifted in the wind, concealing the moon to hide the duo's true form from coming into the light, hiding them from the eyes of the world.
"Is this environment good enough?" The distaste in her tone held a hint of mockery.
"Yeah, it'll do."
A pointed tongue stuck in her cheek, reading into his intentions since his charm wore off. "Is there something you want?"
What person wanted to meet another in an alley save for prostitution or―in this case―murder? She assumed he acted on his perversions towards her, but now he mimicked a psycho.
He didn't tout himself like a mutant, but when he murdered those two boys her suspicions held no merit with how he leapt similar to a giant cat. But what about her? Did he infer that she was one, and if so, when? Back in the pub? When she jumped on the building without a ladder? Did he desire to know if others like them lingered around here?
"Oh, you're spunky. Get right down to business, don't you? Okay then, I think that ass of yours would look better if it bent over facing the sky."
Talk about being blunt.
A plush lip turned upwards, muscles stiffening in response yet she kept quiet. His intentions broadcasted themselves in veiled scrutiny, but she didn't know why the statement surprised her. "Wow, don't we have different agendas, huh? Mine's to bleed you dry."
"Ha!" Creed gave out a sharp bark of laughter. "As if you can."
He saw her akin to a brittle flower, petals ripe and defenseless to be plucked, shaming the beauty she once had. This arrogant asshole challenged her, doubting her skills and devaluing her worth.
"Who the hell are you to talk down to me, you prick! Cowards talking big like that always hide the stupidity they love to showcase. Case in point..." Anaya crossed her arms, cheeks clenching over his opinionated assumptions.
Maybe her temper should reel itself, a heavy ambiance settling in the air came from his direction. Like she strode into hostile territory, having no way to retreat without taking damage. Hmph, serves him right because he shouldn't cast aside what she can and can't do. But she had no leeway with his capabilities, so he should leave the insult alone.
He took one step forward, testing the boundaries to her reaction. He proceeded with another, seeing her eyes narrow either in warning or suspicion. Voting for the former seemed easier because her feisty mouth called to have it stuffed.
"You're the blonde's replacement since you killed him." Tipped fangs showed in a smile that should have sent him packing. Instead, he appeared unfazed by the display, his profile masked by a blank expression. Anaya second-guessed herself with the urge to retreat, but the heady scent of fresh blood titillated her senses.
Her strength dwindled, calling on her last reserves to see her through this, to promise the fulfilling nectar to charge her energies. Even though her conscious sensed her defeat, her thirst drove her will to say the opposite.
"And contrary to what you may think, there's no fucking on the first date."
Victor unmasked a mischievous grin, a sudden heat in his stomach heading southwards. She can have those meaningless morals, but he didn't. If he wanted to wait for sex, he might as well claim the girl as a steady or marry the bitch. Neither occupied a date in his calendar, and she had better learn that now.
Prior to offering a rebuttal she charged at to him, a hard and powerful strike to the jaw turning his face to the side. He faced her, thin lips exposing his own set of canines to her puny ones. Her nose pulled in to make a cute scrunch after she threw a right hook, Victor catching it in his left hand.
Plush labiums trembled from his claws digging into the flesh of her knuckles, having little luck wrenching it away from his solid grip. A black boot elevated between his legs, but he closed his thighs around her ankle, holding on tight. Quick thinking overshadowed her growing irritation with his timed reflexes, her left foot connecting to his temple, releasing her after she briefly stunned him.
The opening spurned her to act, molecules shifting apart to assemble behind the feral mutant to jump on his back. Sharpened teeth sunk into his neck, strong legs locking onto his sides for anchorage and support. Fresh blood splashed on her tongue, savoring the enriching filling to drown in its intoxicating effect. Her acute senses awakened to function at their standard potential, but he stopped her charge midway.
Victor grasped her leg, pulling it forward then pivoting on his right foot, flinging her into the cement wall with enough force to cave it inwards. He stalked to her downed position to grab her. On the defensive, she kneed him in the groin then used her heel to kick him in the nose.
She rolled a few feet from him, stiff with her movements to convey her pain tolerance. A strange, interwoven appreciation amused and annoyed him at her stubborn nature, recovering on his feet to continue this little game. He liked her gusty attitude, able to throw punches and kicks other than screaming and running away.
Frails didn't have a fighting bone in their body, crumbling in on themselves instead of standing their ground. Hell, a time or two he would give them the chance to escape and gain a big head start. It's something with their spatial reasoning to make them to turn around and run into his reach again. But this one deserved a 'special' gift just for challenging him.
"You're not one for subtlety," Anaya wheezed, closing her burning eyes and shaking her head to regain some composure. Spiking jolts pierced through her body, sensing a throbbing ache resonating in her arm. She supported herself on her hands and knees, her pristine white pants dirtied from the sludge in the alley. "You are giving me a workout I— nngh!"
Her breath fled her lungs after he rushed at her, punting her in her stomach. Maybe this harbored a bad idea, wishing to have listened to her conscience and not her instincts. She dared not dream of him taking advantage of her, vicious tendencies aside. And there stood the chance he might kill her if she submitted, just to entertain his sadistic streak.
Why didn't he approach her about possibly having a one-night stand? The results of him getting a yes from her was 60-40, but at least she would contain some insight to his personality!
Thick fingers wove into her hair, pulling her up to face him. Her stiffened body pulled from his touch but he held fast onto her, wrapping his other hand around her waist. Eyelids blinked to clear her vision, but his profile blurred over whenever she eyed him. How could she make it out of this alive? Screaming would prompt him to claw her throat and direct, physical attacks might end her completely. Hmm, perhaps using the play of a demure and meek prey can foil his guard.
Shaky hands rested on the upper part of his chest, gradually slumping and curling into his dominant persona. Women are just as cunning to use an opportunity to their benefit, caressing the male ego prior to crushing it.
"Now, Miss Thing, we can either do this the easy or the hard way. The choice is yours-"
"Fuck you," she growled in a raspy voice, head lolling to the right to rest against his chest.
Glancing at her placid form she probably realized her loss, relaxing into his strong embrace. The feral chuckled, thinking she bumped her head hard against the wall. If she opened her shadowed eyes, she would recognize his possessive nature. She was the fascinating toy he wanted to have, playing with eager attention until the thing bored him.
He didn't understand some women. They waged war inside their minds, battling their senses whether to indulge in their desire to fuck him, but he'd show a tad of dominance and flirting (in his sense of the word), and they caved. Giving them the fuck of their lives with deep thrusts, harsh bites, and suckling nips had them begging for more. If she cut this 'I'm a prude' act then, she'll enjoy it the same.
Victor slid his hand down to sweep the rump of her thick derriere, slapping the shapely muscle as it wiggled. He tilted her neck to the side, running the curve of his nose against her throat, deeply inhaling the sweet smell of blackberries, vanilla and blood. "See how much better things are when you just... go with the flow?" He combed his fingers through her hair, savoring her shivers.
"In my favor, sure." Purple eyes lifted to gray ones, steeling her resolve against his intense focus. His heart strummed in a steady beat though, sensing his calm disposition and lack of expectance to surprise him with an attack. In the same breath he could plan her counterattack, staying on his guard since he sampled what her abilities displayed. Buttering his ego wouldn't hurt before she smashed it into pieces.
"Asking will get you a lot further than taking. You don't need to chase me like a loon."
"Doubt it. Giving a chase makes it fun."
"I doubt that. If you force someone to fuck you, then you're the desperate one." Did he have something to compensate for to take advantage of a fragile (at the moment) woman? Is he trying to build up his manhood by bullying things smaller than him?
What is this guy's motives, other than the obvious quick fuck?
He can search for another girl to do that shit with. Anaya indulged in a few fixes in her life, but her experiences with them weren't memorable. She tolerated bullshit from men with complex issues as much as a bee tolerated an outsider messing with its home. There didn't inhabit a need to 'set them straight' because her extended lifespan outlived their trifling deeds.
Anaya originally felt indifferent towards the whole thing, but his persona disgusted her with his way of thinking.
Enough with the jibber-jabber, stroke his inflated ego and flee. Such a shame, he might have shown her a good time if he wasn't such an asshole.
"No, it just makes me horny." Creed countered, smacking her ass again for good measure.
"Is it too late to scream right about now?"
"Cause' the big, bad wolf captured the frail sheep?" He nipped and licked her neck, enjoying how she jerked and pressed into him. Perhaps she retired her stubborn ways; she didn't have a reason to back out of this, not that he'd allow her.
"I was going to do it for your sake!"
Ten claws punctured into the flesh of his torso while biting down on his pulse, teeth gripping his muscle as fresh blood flooded into her mouth. The plan called to nip him then scale the walls in haste, but she couldn't pry her fangs from his throat. Her thirst moved towards a satiated calm, delighting in the taste his blood gave. If only she let herself off a tad sooner...
Creed chuckled in mirth, knowing she would try to pull off something so slick and conniving. Her false seduction nettled his nerves, but he still had to give her credit for her boldness. Any other woman taking the approach of flirtation would meet unconsciousness, but he liked the sexy but pitiful challenge she retaliated with. Just thinking about what else she hid made him eager to pound inside her.
"The easy way it is." Creed muttered before clutching her neck, crushing her trachea and lifting her up and away from his body. Her long legs flailed, nails digging into his hands leaving vivid, red lines. Victor didn't flinch, reveling in the light stinging of her futile efforts. He set her down, enjoying her squirming in his grip. She needed to feel the transitioning of power filter through her bones shifting into his core.
He hoisted her off the ground until her tippy-toes kissed the gravel, enclosing his fingers tighter. To taunt her vulnerability he leveled her out, loosening his hold on her throat without letting go then repeating the maneuver. Her hand came up to tap his in what he hoped would be submission, catching on to his puppeteering.
"I am not... a rag doll, so can you please stop choking... me? You're killing off my nerves." Her strained words gagged through her speech. Even in the face of adversity, she maintained enough spunk in her to crack jokes about her dilemma. It added points to her appeal to him... and he needed to silence her before her chatty mouth dwindled his interest.
"Why sure, darling. Wouldn't want you completely brain-dead for tonight's events."
"Huh?"
His mind and body waged war concerning what to do about their date. Common sense said to dip inside her velvet pleasures while he still had time, yet his tongue wanted to devour her voluptuous curves in detail. His line of work seldom allowed him the freedom of distractions, and this would be frowned upon by his commander... but what the hell. She earned it.
Placing one hand on her pants and the other on her nape, he pushed her with concentrated force, ramming her into a dumpster in the alley, thinking the hardened object could aid in her taking a nap. Her physique smashed with the steel in perfect fashion; her head and back hit the front of the dumpster and her hip and legs collided to the side.
Audible cracks echoed in his ears, his fingers twitching remembering the bones he had broken...for business and for pleasure. He missed those assignments, filling his days with humor over his target's pained cries, locking their tortured faces in his memories to call them up for a laugh.
Creed dropped on one knee, examining the damage and assessing how long it would take her to heal... well, judging if she did, If her snacking on her neck meant she healed by supping others dry, then she was already on her way to having something repaired.
A sizeable gash marred the upper right side of her forehead, blood slowly pooling out of the wound to drip on the ground. Large hands felt her shoulder out of its socket, gearing to pop the bone back in its place but thought better of it; didn't want to hear her whining, just yet, from the pain it would cause. Giving her a once-over everything looked good, like she passed out from heavy drinking, but the interior of her frame took damage.
The moon removed itself from the clouds' protection, uncovering the acts any creatures of the night committed. A radiant gloss illuminated the comatose huntress, radiating this ethereal sheen on her skin highlighted by the moon's light. Curbing his scrutiny in admiring her beauty he dipped his head, taking a long lick of that smooth, luscious skin.
His restraint cracked into small lines, wondering how much longer he could control his appetite in expectance of the meal before him. He reached out, cupping each soft breast, quelling the rising urges to claim her now. Palms ran down the sides of her curves, stopping his appreciation when her hip protruded outwards more than it should.
She wouldn't be waking up, giving him plenty of time to take her home and entertain her. Maybe even let her use his premises to make herself comfortable... if she wanted to play a game of cat and mouse, that is.
Paying or stealing an escort didn't tickle his fancy. Though they had quite the experience, he held lacking interest in diving into an already worn-out girl. The aroma of sex permeated into their skin. No matter how much they showered, their scent melded with it. This Anaya however, didn't have such a perfume on her, like she had written off its useful purpose. Frankly, that's what turned him on sometimes; a woman that didn't go around having her snatch used up.
He grabbed her by her waist and lifted her over his shoulder, taking note of the groans she emitted from her pained physique. "Shoulda just went with the flow, girlie." He traveled in swift steps out of the alley, staring to the sky and smiling in triumph, giving light smacks to her behind as he fading into the night.
A/N: You guys don't know how painful it is for me to re-read all of the old chapters. I am wincing and screaming in horror as I'm editing through this story. Well enjoy the update!
I don't want anyone to think that I condone any of this stuff, I'm just trying to write Mr. Creed in his element, lol.
P.S. Edited sentence structure and chopped some paragraphs.
