It was her skin, he'd decided, that was the thing that had first drawn him to her. Ghostly white as it was, her skin was unmarked, unblemished and had not experienced the sharp kiss of a SurGen'a scalpal. She was untouched, completely natural and untainted. His grin had widened with glee that first time she had wandered down the alley-way. Naive eyes wide like saucers and and shaking fingers gripping the sleeve of his old shabby coat. That was when he had first noticed. Under the dirty, dim light of a street lamp, she looked etheral and seemed to glow. In comparison to Miss Sweet and the scalpal sluts, she was the closest thing to purity he had ever seen.
It was then he decided that he was going to have her.
Perhaps not sexually, not at first anyway... She was like an exotic creature he wanted to trap in his net and keep her for his very own. He didn't know what seemed more appealing, keeping her locked away from the world so she would remain untainted and pure, or to thrust her out into the real world and watch as its thorny fingers tried to grab at her. She would scream for him to be her salvation and he would save her at the very last minute. So thankful, and so indebted to him, she would come to him willingly. The hunt and the chase would be so sweet, and at the end of it all he would have the grateful, quivering little creature clinging to him in the dark.
These were the thoughts that ran through his head as he stood beneath her window.
Some nights he rolled several small pebbles in his palm as he looked up at the house, watching her shadow pass by the curtains. The urge to fling those pebbles at the glass was strong, but never strong enough for him to actually do it. He just toyed with the idea, the thought of her coming to the window in one of her flimsy night gowns and seeing him standing there made him smile. Would she scream and call for her daddy? Or would she be charmed by his Cheshire Cat grin and come out to play?
One day he hoped to find out.
Until then he spent his time peering up through her window, or perching on a gravestone and watching her hunt for bugs. All the time he made sure no harm came to her. There were times when other grave robbers and Zydrate peddlers snuck onto his turf who made their intentions very clear about the scantily clad teenager. They were never around for long. He had already decided she would be his.
She would not come to any harm. Not until he said so.