He glanced behind him, carefully eyeing the darkness with casual distrust and familiarity. His black hair brushed over his shoulders, slightly curling in a deliberately tussled bed-head look. The shadows spoke to him, hidden voices only the dead could hear. He could smell the essence of life pouring from a club entrance on his left. Hoping for a quick drink, he grabbed his wallet out of the pocket of his leather jacket, knowing from years of experience that he would need the proof of his legal age ready.

His youthful looks were the bane of his existence, but also an excellent strategy in his game of seduction and death.

People always saw what he presented on the surface.

Tonight, he had deliberately left his hair long and eyes their original color. Outwards, he was a striking young man, with a face that was nearly beautiful. His black locks framed and enhanced his beguiling blue eyes in an elegiac beauty poets had been writing about for ages. As he walked into the club, his amble was a graceful dance, calculatingly drawing the eyes to his lithe form and the leather pants riding low on his hips.

Michel was on the prowl.

Even those who knew anything about vampires looked at him and saw a vain young man, bronzed skin and a body like a god. It turned out that after he finished the boiled-lobster phase, his burned skin turned into a tanned healthy glow. He looked normal and harmless.

That was what he was counting on.

He made his way towards the bar, watching the wealth of females dancing on the floor. The room smelled of alcohol, sweat, blood and lust. Inhaling deeply, he let a feral smile cross his lips. In that moment he looked like the dangerous hunter he was. Pushing through the crowd, he mentally catalogued potential meals. Lately, more and more women were rating maybes instead of yes.

He needed to stop being so picky.

Grabbing a stool at the bar, he once again flashed his ID before ordering a beer. He didn't really care what brand it was. It was only a prop anyway. His drink was served by a bartender who couldn't be much older than Christian, his new name according to his identification. Michel smirked his thanks before placing his elbows on the moderately clean bar and hunching over the bottle in a brooding pose.

He liked it much better when the unsuspecting happy-meals-with-feet came to him.

A man across the circular bar was trying to cajole a woman to come have a little fun with him in the back of his car. She was very coyly refusing him. Christian tipped his head to the side, sniffing the air subtly. She was HIV positive. Not a good meal prospect unless he wanted the joy of throwing it up later. Another patron gulped down vodka straight from the bottle. His eyes watered, but it didn't appear as if it was the alcohol. Michel could sense the heartbreak pouring off him and battled the urge to shift uncomfortably.

"Hi." The soft voice came from a blond woman in a diaphanous blue dress. She slicked the material over her hips as she slid onto the stool next to him. Subtly he surveyed her before replying. Fine body. Healthy blood. Good enough.

In reply he shifted his head briefly in her direction, getting ready to respond to her next statement. Instead, he found himself staring into brown eyes. His own eyes widened wildly as her lips formed an 'oh' of surprise.

Kerry.

He had been running from her memory, and here she was sitting next to him. The fragrant smell of her innocent blood, the taste of her lips and the feeling of her body against his flooded his brain. He knew it was only a memory, but for the life of him he couldn't function for what felt like minutes. Michel's blood sped up. Automatically, he placed an amused genial emotion on his face.

He turned completely in his seat, finally getting a good look at the woman next to him. To his disappointment her nose was too slender, and mouth too wide to be Kerry's. The expression in her eyes was pure female appreciation instead of recognition. Michel turned back to his drink, preparing to brood for real.

"What's wrong?" She asked, the local twang obvious in her voice as she placed a hand boldly on his back.

"You reminded me of someone." He replied, already dismissing her from his mind. She muttered something he didn't care to catch and moved to leave, brushing fleetingly against the sleeve of his jacket. "Wait. Can I buy you a drink?" He questioned, glancing at her with an apologetic friendly look on his face. He already decided he'd take her into his bed and screw her before taking her blood.

Maybe then he'd get a certain delectable sixteen year old out of his system for good.

Like he'd been trying to do every night for the past year.

©RelenaFanel2005