Once upon a many moon, he was struck by the thunderous arrow of love. An emotion completely foreign to his kind and in this exact moment, his inner beast berated him for.
He seeps through the crowd undisturbed, a soft growl at the horrid reminder.
His face was a mask of undulated rage and hatred.
In the shadows, his eyes caught sight of his obsession, adorned in the very same dress she had sent the Master to in his eternal resting place.
His Master.
Another growl escapes, this time reverberating in the depth of his body that a soul should've existed, but didn't. He ignores the dancing couples closing in on him, his dark eyes focusing on her movements.
She moves with a confidence she carries upon her hips and shoulders, her body lost to the trance like music. She laughs, interrupting his dark thoughts. He watches her friends laugh along, bemused expressions on their faces. His eyes narrow to slits. He snarls.
The urge to kill rose.
So did the lust.
He yearned to inflict torture upon endless torture on her. But along that came the overwhelming desire to make her his.
He grits his teeth.
He hates her.
He loves her.
He lusts for her.
He wants to make her suffer.
The crime of making him taste humanity again. The very thought makes his blood boil. His fingers curve into claws.
He gazes at her once more before blending back into the crowd.
He decides to bide his time.
Her suffering will come.
And soon.