AN:

Warning! This chapter is graphic. Blood, gore, and a sensitive topic. Your mother would not approve, and neither would Stephenie Meyer... I'm almost positive. If you don't have a queasy stomach... read on. If you do like vigilante revenge... read on. ;-) Don't say I didn't warn you.

Thanks to all my reviewers and readers! 3

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer created the villain, I gave her a story. Victoria and Twilight are still her property. Don't tell Victoria she belongs to anyone, though. She'll kick your ass.

Chapter 2: Predator

"I'm sorry," he whispers again into my ear.

I pull away from James to look at him. His crimson eyes are full of sincerity. I don't want to feel the way I feel, but I do. Elation. I don't want to smile, but I do. I inhale a deep breath and my throat burns.

"Look, James, I really need to hunt," I say. "But I do want to speak with you. Meet me in the park in an hour. I'll only meet you tonight, so show up."

"Yes, Victoria. Take as long as you need," he smiles, and it's a wonderful smile. His razor-sharp teeth are glimmering in the multicolored lights of the discotheque dance floor. Beautiful. I don't want to be dazzled by him, but I am.

I still am kind of pissed at him. He has a lot of fucking explaining to do.

"See you in an hour, then," I say and turn away from him.

Now… back to business. Clay is still by the bar, fidgeting and shifting in his seat nervously. He looks up at me and waves. He still smells tasty.

"Hey, you're back!" he says. His voice is quivering, but so gently that human ears wouldn't notice. I'm making him nervous? How cute. "Need me to beat up that guy for you?"

I giggle, stifling maniacal laughter. If only he knew what James could do to him. I lean against the bar next to him and smile, trying to give off an image of friendliness, amiability, and all that nice human shit.

"No, no, that's okay. Sorry about that. Just some guy I used to date trying to get with me tonight. But I have other plans." I wink at him. "Are you ready to go?"

"You want to finish your drink first?" he doesn't really say it as a question, but more like he's insisting that I finish my drink. He pushes the glass of pink cosmopolitan in my direction.

"Umm… okay," I say and smile. I drink the godawful liquid, and if I'm not mistaken, it tastes even more disgusting than before. Whatever.

Clay and I walk to the door, and he reaches for my hand, but I fold my arms against my body like I'm cold. I am cold, and I don't need this human freaking out about how cold my skin is before I get him alone. I shiver. He looks at me and smiles nervously.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?" he asks.

Of course I know how beautiful I am. "No," I say shyly and smile at him through my eyelashes. He trips over a crack in the sidewalk. Dumbass.

"Well, you are the most beautiful gal I've ever seen." Shocking. No other woman is as beautiful as me, and if I ever meet a human woman prettier than me, I'll rip her fucking face off to fix that. A more beautiful female vampire, though… that's a different story. I know there are plenty of those. Cunts. If I could turn them all into piles of ashes, I would, and it'd be great, but after a while it would just get boring… and really, I'm not that vain.

Clay reaches for my hand again and grabs it. Fuck. I look into his eyes to see his reaction to my icy marble skin. I'm expecting horror, but I see only concern.

"Are you feeling okay, Tori? You're really cold."

"I'm fine. Just a little chilly." I fake a shiver again and smile.

"You don't feel dizzy or have a headache or anything, do you?"

What the fuck? How does that relate to my coldness? You know, this ugly bag of blood is really starting to get on my nerves with all his annoying kindness. I would just fucking pull him into an alley and feed now, but I've spent too much time trying to have a little fun. So far it's just been irritating. Asshole. The look on his face when he realizes he's not going to get laid is going to be fucking priceless. He will pay for trying my patience, and I will enjoy myself tonight.

"I'm fine, thank you."

"This is it," he says as he pulls me toward an apartment building. We go in the door and up the winding stairway… four floors… slowly. Jesus, could he take any longer? His heart is pounding louder in my ears with every passing heartbeat, with every step, and my throat is blazing. Now I wish I had taken him in the alley.

When we arrive to his door, he stops, and catches his breath. "Sorry," he says. "I should have warned you it was four flights."

Okay, okay, open the fucking door for Christ's sake. The lock clicks. He smiles at me, and I want to tear him open right then for making me wait. He opens the door and leads me inside. As we pass through the hall, I take a peek at the living room. Damn, it's ugly. Wood panel walls, orange carpet, a big brown couch. He leads me to a room and shuts the door. He turns on the light and my mouth pops open.

What. The. Fuck.

The walls are lined with acoustic paneling, and there's a huge… I don't know how to describe it other than that it's a fucking crucifix without a Jesus, but with ropes to bind the hands and feet. In a lone corner are some chains and cuffs. There's a shelf with duct tape, ropes, candles, and a knife. On the other side of the room is a surgeon's table. Clay is fucking kinky! Nothing wrong with a little kink.

But I smell something. I know that fucking smell. It's the very thing I live for. Blood. Human blood that isn't his.

I turn to look at Clay. He's looking at me with what looks like desire, but also with something I recognize well. Bloodlust. I know bloodlust. I feel it right now. I did not, however, expect to see it in his eyes. I want to laugh so hard. This is going to be so much fun. Clay smiles wickedly.

"What's going on?" I ask, trying to sound as scared as I possibly can.

"Well, I had to get a new girl since my last one went and died last night."

"How did she die?" I feign terror now.

"Being chained to the wall for a couple weeks usually does it. Some girls can go three weeks. Sometimes four."

"You sick fuck!" I scream and begin to run away. He throws up his arms to stop me in my path, so I run in the other direction, and Clay comes at me. He's going to try to throw me against the wall. His hands come up to my shoulders to shove me, and I feel his gentle pushing. I figure he's pushing hard, so I fall back quickly before he realizes how little his strength is against mine. When I fall back, I make sure not to overdo it and put a hole in his wall. That would be a bitch to clean up.

His heart is thrumming away in his chest. He's so excited, and the scent of his adrenaline is intoxicating. A bead of sweat drops from his brow. I scream again for good measure as he smiles and stands over me. I start to fake cry. Damn, this is so much fun. It's going to get even more exciting in just a few moments.

"Then right before nature takes her," he says gently, excitedly, "I fuck her, and then I put her on that table over there, and I make her wish she was never born."

He unbuttons his shirt, then undoes his belt and zipper and gets on his knees, pushes me against the wall.

"Clay, no! Don't do this, please!" I cry.

"Shut up, you little bitch," he growls and pushes his pants and underwear down. I can't help it anymore, it's too great. I laugh. I laugh hard.

"Why are you laughing? Are you laughing at me?" he's perplexed, completely astounded and baffled. "What the fuck are you laughing at?"

"I'm laughing at how pathetic you are."

"I'm not pathetic. I'm going to make you fucking pay, you cunt!"

"Oh no. No. You're not," I say, voice forceful now to let him know that I'm going to run the show from now on. I smile widely to exhibit my razor teeth. "You picked the wrong girl to fuck with tonight, boy."

The bloodlust in his eyes has now turned to complete fear. He begins to back away, but he's not quick enough. I grab his testicles and squeeze. He yelps as I pull. I squeeze harder, and tears begin to fall from his eyes.

"Please don't," he weeps, and I squeeze harder yet. "Oh my God, no!"

"The wrong girl," I say.

I clamp my hand into a fist and feel his balls crush beneath the delicate skin. He screams loudly, pitifully. I let him go, and he jumps up and runs to the other side of the room. I stand up and wipe my hand on my slacks. I got sweat on it. Disgusting.

He grabs a knife from the shelf and runs at me with it. Fucking idiot! He's trying to make this fun for me, isn't he? He comes sprinting forward as fast as he can, and tries to plunge the knife into my heart. It doesn't even scrape the skin.

"Boo!" I say quietly, and jump forward. The knife bends against my skin. He looks into my black eyes and shrieks like a little girl. He's about to shit, he's so scared. I smile at him.

"The wrong girl," I say again.

He screams again and runs out of the room without his pants. I follow him, and he's running to the front door, but I get there quicker. He crashes into me. I hiss at him and he shrieks yet again. His heart is thundering loudly, and the sound of it ignites my thirst yet again. But I can resist for a few more moments as I taunt him some more. Fucker deserves it.

I pick him up and toss him onto his ugly brown couch. Before he can move, I'm right next to him. I break both of his legs so he can't move them, and he screams loudly. If I had blood, it would curdle.

"Would you shut the fuck up?" I yell as I put one hand on his chest to hold him down and the other over his mouth.

"So, Clay, how many women have you kept here in your lovely home?" I ask with a kind smile, and remove the hand from his mouth.

"I… I don't know," he says, struggling to breathe.

"Think about that for a second, okay?" I remove my hand, take off my fur coat, and throw it to the corner. It was all too quick for him to move. I put my hand back on his chest. "Thought of a number yet?"

"Uh…"

"'Uh…' is not a number, jackass. How many girls?" I roar, and he closes his eyes. "Ten? Twenty? More?"

"Fifteen, maybe," he says, choking on his breath. He's crying softly.

"Fifteen. Interesting. So, do you want to know how many people I've killed, Clay?" I ask him gently, smiling brightly. He begins to cry a little harder. I giggle.

"Thousands, Clay. I think I've got you beat by just a few!"

"Are you going to kill me?" he weeps.

"What the fuck do you think?" I roar at him, and he tries to move. "I'm going to make you wish you were never born."

"Please, no! I can be a good person. I won't kill anymore! I'll… be better… I—"

"You are so fucking pathetic, Clay. Absolutely pathetic. Don't you realize that I don't care what kind of a person you are? I'm your predator; I always was. Even when you thought I was your prey." I laugh. "No, Clay. You're my fucking prey. Hmm… that rhymes. Prey Clay." I giggle while he sobs.

"So pathetic," I say one last time.

I push my hand harder against his chest, and he yells out in pain. One quick shove, and the skin on his chest breaks beneath my hand, the bones surrounding his heart crush and crumble. Within a second, my hand is around his heart. It's pulsating in my fist. My other hand reaches inside the chest cavity and I pull the heart out with both hands, gently, so as not to disconnect it. Clay is still alive, and he's screaming. The sound of his fear is almost as good as the smell of his blood, but nothing will be able to top the taste. I bite.

I begin to drink slowly, enjoying it. The heart is still pumping in my hands, slower with every second. The sound of it reminds me of the sound of my own heart beating as I lay awake in bed at night many years ago. For a moment, it is my heart beating.

The blood cools then quenches the fire in my throat, and I drink it all until he is dry. The heart stops beating. Clay isn't screaming anymore, and a look of shock is plastered upon his face, there to be for all eternity.

"Oh, Clay," I sigh. "Thank you so much for such a marvelous evening."

I need a moment to collect myself before I clean up. I take a deep breath. I feel like I should feel bad for what I just did, but I don't. It should no longer shock me how little remorse I feel for taking life. I only feel exhilaration and euphoria. Sometimes, I feel nothing at all. However, I am never this brutal in my killings. Clay deserved it, though. He had it coming, and perhaps I, too, have it coming. I don't know. I don't really care. I can honestly say that this was the most fun I've had while feeding… in all my existence.

After putting myself back together, cleaning the apartment a bit, and disposing of the exsanguinated corpse, I run to Central Park.

I'm running so fast, the freezing wind is whipping at my hair, washing away all the anger I had once felt toward James. From a mile away, I can smell him, and I'm so… excited. Not pissed like I was before.

I track him to the park bench where he's sitting. He's beautiful. Stunning. A sliver of his skin is glistening in the moonlight. He smiles at me.

Fuck talking. He doesn't need to say anything to me, not now. It can wait.

I run to him at full speed and attack him. The bench gives out beneath us and cracks to pieces. My lips crash into his lips as I clasp his neck with one hand and the back of his head with the other. I pull him closer. God, he's delicious. Licorice, cloves, honey, peppermint… so many flavors I hadn't tasted in all my vampire years I could taste in his mouth. I straddle his hips with my legs and pull myself away to look at him for a moment. His eyes are glowing rubies. He pulls me back down to him and kisses me sweetly. His tongue meets mine first, and they begin a war or swirls and caresses. I unlock our lips and take a deep breath, only to breathe him into my lungs. I let out a sigh and he smiles at me.

"I have to tell you something, Victoria," he says.

"What? What is it?" I ask, nervous. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no… not at all, it's just…"

"Well? Spit it out, then!" I raise my voice a little, frustrated. What the fuck is wrong with him? But then he smiles again and I cannot help but be dazzled by him.

"I have always loved you," he whispers.

I told you your mother wouldn't approve. I'm sorry if I traumatized you forever. I promise you that the entire story isn't going to be this bloody. It is Victoria and James, though, so there is going to be some more blood. Just not all the time. And if the last few paragraphs are any indication of what's coming next... ;-) Reviews make me happy.