Prompt: Staccato.
He cocked his head, looking at the creature pinned in his grasp.
Wide eyes.
Rasping breath.
Heaving chest.
The shirt collar, stained with various unspeakable noxious fluids, grime, sweat, and soot, torn undone and showing the pulse pounding rapidly in the skin of the filthy neck.
A snakelike tongue flicked out and slithered along bloodless lips.
The heartbeat of the panicked man thrummed in his eyes.
Those eyes stared at him like he was the ultimate horror, snatching this man from the cobblestones as he walked past the abandoned alley.
A feral, vicious smile spread his lips over curled, sharpened fangs.
The man's panicked struggles increased, but he was firmly pinned in the vampire's unshakeable grip.
He darted in and bit down.
The man's blood was thin and tired. Life on the streets of London, in the Year of Our Lord 1800, had long since beaten any joy, any hope, any innocence or love, and any emotion but dull, tireless despair out of his prey's mind long ago.
But it was a meal.
He bit down harder, savoring the rich red liquid, feeling the weak, tired muscles spasm and kick against his implacable, marble-hard body.
The heart beat harder, faster, pumping the blood quicker, making it flow faster.
He sucked slower, taking his time over the meal, thumbing through the man's mind and memories without a care for the panicked thrashing of his doomed prey.
The pounding heart beat even faster.
He bit down harder.
The thunderous beat was slowing, the once steady, strong pulse becoming weak and erratic.
Thud-thud.
Thud-thud.
Thud-thud.
T-thud.
Thud.
He withdrew his fangs, sliding them out of the bloodied casing of the man's neck as he swiped his tongue once across his pale lips, smirking icily.
The corpse slowly slid to the ground, eyes blank.
Dracula mockingly straightened his own, debonair clothing, his tongue flicking over his lips one last time, chasing the flavor of the crimson liquid as he straightened.
He calmly walked out of the alley, as if he had every right to be there and had only stepped in for a moment.
A woman across the street caught his gaze and blushed.
A small smile curved his lips, catching her heartbeat quicken at the sight.
Thud-thud-thud.
Thud-thud-thud.
His smile grew, fringing on predatory, and he started moving across the street to the blushing woman.
Such a lovely staccato beat, he thought evilly as he listened to her pounding heart.
Prompt: Cadence.
"Pardon me madam, but you bring such a lovely accent to this language."
He smiled flirtatiously as he brushed the blood red rose over her cheek, and she flushed and simpered, her delicate white fingers taking the stem carefully.
His nostrils flared as her fears were justified, the soft pad of one finger slicing itself open upon a sharp thorn, missed by the careful pruning of the gardener who had plucked it.
Unnoticed by the fluttering opera singer, his tongue darted out to moisten his lips as she dithered and at last pressed an expensive silk handkerchief to the tiny wound, leaving the rich scent of blood to corrupt the air around him and make his long-dead stomach softly growl with hunger, his throat starting up a low burn.
He smiled and pressed the urges aside, apologizing demurely for the offending thorn, making a small joke, watching her laugh and smile flirtatiously with all the emotion of a hawk watching its doomed prey.
In reality, that was exactly what was happening between him and the woman.
She laughed and put her hand on the crook of his arm, sending him a look under long, black lashes as she batted them twice.
The bait had been taken.
He escorted her home like a proper gentleman, laughing with her charmingly, conversing elegantly, steering her mind this way and that without even using his powers.
She winked at him as they entered, and he willingly let her go as she slipped into a different room to "change into something more appropriate".
He sat elegantly on the loveseat, waiting patiently as before long, his chosen prey waltzed into the room, a lascivious and coy smile flirting around her crimson-painted lips.
She straddled his lap, rubbing softly at his chest as she murmured to him softly, but his only attention was focused on the gentle curve of her swanlike neck.
He smiled, keeping his fangs hidden, and bent forward.
She let out a tiny yelp as his fangs slunk into her neck, and he placed his hand on the small of her tiny back, keeping her supported as his red-brown eyes closed blissfully.
He started swallowing.
A few hours later, he was shown out by the "lady", her smile slightly tired, as if she was drained of energy.
She passed it off as her…activities with him, but he knew the truth.
A disappearance of such a woman –young, nubile, her blood overflowing with life and energy– would almost certainly attract the wrong sort of attention, especially since he had already fed upon several other "performers" in the area.
He licked his lips twice, humming softly to himself.
His stomach was pleasantly full, and his needs had been fully sated. For the moment at least.
Now it was time for some entertainment.
Prompt: Asphyxiate.
Dracula calmly walked towards the bridge over the quiet, sluggish river, dressed as usual in the height of elegance.
It wasn't as if he had to worry about-
"Hand over everythin' ya got, toff."
His eyes narrowed, and he turned, deliberately slow, and eyed the three men, dressed in ragged, cast-off working clothes.
He turned away again, starting to walk.
" 'Ey, you heard me foreigner? Ya speak English?!"
He ignored them, stepping onto the wooden bridge.
First board.
A grimy hand gripped his shoulder.
"I SAID ARE YA LISTENIN' TA-"
Snap.
"AAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"
The man screamed and awkwardly clutched his broken wrist, staggering backwards and wailing like a small child as his two companions gave each other uneasy looks.
But drunkenness and greed for money won out, and they approached him again.
A third of the way across the bridge.
The first one had a knife, which he calmly snatched out of the drunk's grip –breaking several fingers as he did– and sunk it into the man's heart.
He fell back with a short gurgle.
He whipped around and seized the other man by the throat, slamming him into the side of the bridge.
Halfway across.
Eyes bulging, the man scrabbled at his gloved fist, but his grip was implacable, and it was slowly tightening.
A bloodstream full of alcohol tasted wretched, and even the prospect of a free meal wasn't enough to entice him to feed from this lowlife.
The grip tightened further.
His face was clinical, almost bored, and his red eyes glowing faintly in the twilit darkness of the bridge.
Craaack-
Snap.
He snorted silently and tossed the body over the bridge, continuing on his way.
He ignored the screams behind him as the rapidly sobering man started crawling away, hobbling on his one remaining hand and his knees.
The bodies of his companions lay there, one slowly bleeding out over the bridge, and the other sinking below the muddy surface as it was tugged downstream by the polluted current.