Out of all of the bitter, vile scents, his radiated stronger throughout the crowded room. It was something that baffled her, and if it weren't for her age and pedigree any other monster would've already gone at him, not sparing a single drop of the sweet drug he possessed. Ever since she had started paying her nightly visits, he was the only thing that kept her attention. How was he still alive? Not being protected by any hunters nearby, or even the knowledge of what was out there.
Alfred was oblivious to the thoughts that played on in her mind, having taken her dead silence as a sign to leave her alone for a bit. Not a single weapon, neck completely exposed, the thin, cotton collar of his black work-shirt providing no protection at all. Humans were always oblivious in her eyes. Closed-minded, afraid of what they didn't even attempt to understand. Often people avoided her for this reason. A proud woman of status, tall, and drop-dead gorgeous. Anya was someone to be feared and respected, a lioness amongst a heard of helpless lambs. Her beauty was a trait of a very rare, original bloodline, something the new-bloods wandering around nowadays dreamed of possessing. At least fewer and fewer intruders were wandering into this area that she had claimed, which could explain why he had still remained untouched prey.
The temperature had dropped significantly as the workers at the bar helped to get the drunkards on their way, and by on their way just out of sight and separate from each other so no fights could start. Alfred was busy cleaning; sweeping, polishing tables and glasses, and picking up several personal items left behind to give to the manager who, (hopefully), would place the items in the lost-and-found. Honestly cleaning up was his favorite part of this job from the odd things he found, and the fact that it was actually quiet for once. He had decided to let Anya stay a bit longer, wanting to be courteous to the only one who was sober, but by the time he had finished his work, he found himself humming familiar broken tunes to an empty chair. The floor hadn't even creaked, and there was not a single penny left behind for a tip. A solemn sigh escaped his lips, feeling upset he couldn't serve to her standards. How do you please someone like that who probably makes a fifty times more than your own income?
Smoke from the nearby hookah lounge seemed to be carried by the freezing air. Stepping outside was like getting a smack in the face with how cold it was. It was unfortunate the only thing he had to keep him warm was his old thrift-store vintage bomber jacket that had seen better days. Being made of real leather, it provided a decent amount of protection, but he still had a few blocks to go before he was back in his crummy apartment. After fumbling with the keys to find the correct one, locking the gated doors to the bar, he was on his way down the sidewalk he always trekked to get to the underground metro. The scents in this area were always bitter, and Anya hardly ever ventured here, but it suddenly drew all of her attention when she discovered his presence; a freesia.
The walk to the train was always quiet, and tonight he was surprised with the lack of lights and cars. Owners were probably getting ready to close for the holidays, despite it only being mid-November. The moon was already claiming the sky for much longer, allowing her soft gaze to lull people much sooner to sleep. Anya, on the other hand, had more time to be active and enjoy herself. Alfred continued his usual pace, adjusting his glasses every so often so they wouldn't slip off. He was approaching the local clinic, the stairway down into the earth already visible to him and the only thing he could really see at this moment with his glasses fogging up from his breath. What he didn't see, was the figure hunched over in the darkness, enthralled in his pure scent.
He was strong, a lot stronger than most humans, but the mortification and shock remained the same. The only thing occupying his heavily-blurred vision now was the small, narrow strip of night sky that ran between the two tall, dark, unlit buildings. Everything was numb, his body no longer able to process the completely foreign sensation of sheer agony and hazy pleasure blending together at once. Coordination was a thing of the past, muscles no longer responding, even with the copious adrenaline racing through him. Before he could even begin to fragment together just one piece of the situation puzzle, the dirty gravel became his new bed as consciousness receded him.
It was better than she could have imagined. Alfred's blood was liquid gold, and the rich taste brought her to a near-climatic state. It was unfortunate her abilities were so honed he had no prior warning, but just the sight of that neck brought her all the way down to her lowest point; a bloodlust-fueled frenzy. The solid brick did nothing to cushion him as he was pinned harshly against the wall of the clinic, now trapped in this web she had made within the filthy alleys. The amount of restraint it took to pull away was far beyond even a noble vampire's ability. Alfred trembled, his glasses having been knocked clean off from the force of the grab, now shattered against the pavement, and completely disoriented and mind shut off as she effortlessly tore his work shirt to expose the soft, sun-kissed flesh. It had been centuries since Anya felt this enticed. Her long, angled fangs were already poised above that sweet artery in his neck, and the fact that he just continued to weakly struggle as his heart raced did not help his situation at all. Once they plunged in, her body pressed further against his, a sign telling any other vampires to back off. Anya's gulps were slow, but large. The only sound that seemed to resonate in his mind, and would be in reoccurring flashbacks.
Blood dripped down her chin and neck, dripping onto the ground below as she failed to maintain her neatness and overall composure. She had already surpassed the normal feeding amount, and the only thing that cued her to stop was the pained groan from him, and the extreme limpness in his muscles. He was dying. Anya was no killer, at least, not in this time period. Not only was his once untouched neck now deeply punctured and abused, the fluffy collar of her bright pink coat was sullied in his blood. It was exhilarating, but wrong. He was young, completely innocent, and if she just abandoned him like all other prey his short life would come to an end, now that he was susceptible to even more attacks in this state, and currently bleeding out. Anya kneeled over him, using her thick scarf to apply pressure to the wound as she pondered on how she would make sure he could stay alive.
White. Too bright. The lights made him cringe, and even cause his pounding migraine to worsen. "You're awake," a familiar voice purred. The woman from the bar.