Dim stars shimmered through heavy rain and light pollution, watching my quicksilver movements. I was silent, almost as if I wasn't there, deadly. But so was he, a creature of the night. I had been staring at his black clothed back for miles now, somehow knowing that if I were to go ahead I would severely regret it.
But I had no motivation to run.
Never once did he turn around to make sure I was there, to make sure I was still following. Maybe he knew he didn't have to.
Nothing held my interest for long.
Nothing but his retreating figure held my attention.
The way his muscles bunched and clenched deliberately under the soft cotton with the movement of his limbs. The tensing and release of his shoulders as he runs, the subtle shift of his hips as he curves in his path. No movement made without precise control. No thoughtless waste of motion or energy. Beautiful in his ability to be both unyielding and adaptable in a single motion. Impossibly, diametrically opposing qualities all coalescing to form a single being.
I watched in awe as he lithely jumped into a century old oak and stood, stoically looking out into the city. I copied his move, leaping with considerably less grace to stand behind and slightly above him. Wanting and straining to see what he saw, what world my killer contemplated, I turned my eyes to the flickering lights and opened my ears to hear the heavy traffic.
He turned slowly in my peripheral and moved until his russet eyes met mine.
He motioned to the slithering, silver profile of the river we had been following and I, knowing what he meant, followed the silent command as quickly as I could. I scrubbed my skin furiously, getting rid of all human traces, of all the filth clinging to my body. Marveling at the pearl-perfect skin revealed from underneath the muck. Relaxing in the water that should have been killing me.
I giggled at that thought.
A pure, happy sound.
It was liberating. To let go of the pain, the caring. To be free.
What judgment could he make that I had not already endured? What had he not already seen?
I laughed because laughter had become a foreign concept.
I laughed at myself. At him. At death.
For the first time in a long time, I laughed. Simply because I could.
And that was a triumph greater than I had ever expected. Another piece of myself I could try to fit back together.
With that thought in mind, I stepped out of the water quickly, dripping in the murky moonlight escaping through the clouds. I had no thought for my lack of clothes or modesty, no care at all. Why should I? I had learned my lesson in that first half-life.
He stared for a moment, tracing his eyes along the contours of this strange, pale body. I watched his slowly darkening eyes with apathy and slight curiosity. I simply stood as he watched, waiting for the next order.
He stalked over to me, his stride mercurial and dangerous. His rough hand swept my drenched hair across my neck and once again traced the mark behind my ear. I suppressed a low growl, but I couldn't hold in the small shudder at the strange sensation centered at his bite mark. He growled low into my ear, a deep masculine sound, it sounded both pleased and annoyed. My mind was slowly slipping away, lost in a spreading haze. His scent swirled around us, an intoxicating cloud of burning wood and roasted pecans.
He moved my arms slowly, lifting them above my head. He outlined my features with his hand, dragging his fingers across my skin sluggishly. I could feel the textured material sliding down my skin, following the rough pads of his fingers, just feeling the dark shirt he pulled over my head. He let my arms drop and I saw the smirk, almost demonic with his black eyes. I stared back, emotionless. Waiting. He trailed his hand across my neck once more and turned his back to me.
He started running again. I followed silently behind him. A shadow.
We passed houses and streets, flying through the city. Cab drivers blinked and missed us, cars looked like armored caterpillars, slowly crawling along the asphalt.
We stopped in front of an alleyway. He flicked his eyes to me. I could hear the pumping and squishing of something I wanted. Something I needed. A need that should have disturbed me.
My eyes met his. He nodded. I was gone.
I let go of my mind. I let the blankness take my body.
A muffled scream pierced the midnight silence, a scream that nobody would hear. My dark chuckle sounded foreign to my own ears. I could almost see the predatory smile on my face.
My teeth found their place quickly, parting buttery skin with a flourish.
The sheer pleasure of this death overwhelmed me. To feel so utterly in control. To hold life in my hand.
No pretenses. No manipulations. No threats. No lies.
A choice. My choice.
Intoxicating. Freeing.
New.
As the life in my arms trickled away in red rivulets, I could sense his presence. Watching, waiting for me to release claim over my kill. My first kill.
A human. A choice. A message.
I met his gaze as I stood languidly. Waiting. Sated for the first time in a very long time.
My kill.
He cocked his head curiously as a dark smile crossed my lips, the blood still painting them red.
My choice.
Power had only ever been taken from me, never given. Another thing I owed my killer.