p r e d a t o r

if he’d caught that painfully, familiar scent sooner-- lyall would have avoided her.

but this early in the afternoon the human market is packed. too many smells, too many sounds and by the time lyall notices willa he’s nearly upon her. close enough to touch, to snatch, and the last time willa had been within reach she’d been a wisp of a girl, and lyall had been very cruel.

“careful.” he inhales deep, exhales slow-- taking his own advice to keep his claws tamed and his irises from flickering red. “behave. they don’t much like wolves in these parts.“

the slash of puckered skin over his belly pulses painful, and his heart beats rabbit-quick in his chest. not out of fear. lyall isn’t afraid of her. this is anticipation. so many years of looking, never touching, now here they are.

“you know– i’m starting to think you’ve got an appetite for trouble.“

there’s a drip, drip, drip of a tap left loose behind the bar. lyall ignores it. disregards the bodies too– the bartender with a snapped neck slumped over the lacquered wood of the bartop, and half a dozen patrons scattered like broken toys on tables, on the floor, close to the exit after their failed attempts to escape. all of them have matching, twin pinpricks of teeth mostly on necks, occasionally on a wrist.

“you’re always sinking your teeth in it.“

the bartender’s wound is particularly vicious. juliet’s very first victim on a hunt is always the worst– and lyall drags two fingers through the puddle of blood. it’s still warm, and he licks them clean.

“pretty thing like you should know better than to wear red in these parts.“

She’d trusted Lyall for a while now, knew his intentions were genuine – and she absolutely adored him for it. Not only did he helped her gaining some control over who she were, but he also helped her enjoy the feeding aspect of it. Even though she felt aggressive towards him, an anger she couldn’t possibly explain and which caused Juliet to show her fangs – she’d never be able to let him go, or stop being his mentee. The opportunity he’d given her was everything she could’ve asked for at times, especially whenever she found herself just living through each day without a real purpose. His eyes didn’t betray him one bit and Juliet was reassured of their bond.

“A man to break apart,” she said softly, angelic. As if it was the easiest and most innocent statement in the world “A man to hunt and to devour,” her eyes glistened in the moonlight, indicating how she wanted more, wanted to see him hunt as well. She could hear other heartbeats not too far from them and started to move even further away. “Are you going to play with them or are we to kill them quickly? Show mercy?” Juliet turned around to her mentor. She smiled “just the thought of it makes me thirsty. We should hurry,” she rushed deeper into the woods, but stopped before alarming the couple. “Patience,” she reminded herself. “Be my guest.”

“ah. so you’re in a mood tonight.“

when he was a young wolf, freshly turned, his appetite had been indiscriminate. he ate them young, ate them old. bit and tore them down to the very bone and cracked those open too-- just to suck the marrow clean. it was a conscious, terrible choice. unlike vampires-- wolves can sustain themselves on human food. but lyall had been born into a pack that saw humans as the enemy, and willingly embraced the side of themselves that was more animal than man.

it’s two days from the full moon. this close to full-turning it’s easy enough to curl his fingers as his claws sprout, and when he talks the words are muffled by a mouth full of sharp, sharp teeth. “you’re thinking too much. humans are fat and spoiled and run very slow. we can play.”

he strolls out. ducks his head and wishes the pair a-- “good evening.” then in a movement too swift for the human eye to catch-- his hand snaps out, grips the man’s forehand, and snaps the bone.

lyall lets go. gives the pair a chance to run, knowing full well juliet is behind him.

friend to play with sliding down the road. “Woah– Slow down big fella, I was just fooling around.” he said while raising his arms as a truce before taking a little gentle jump and land near the elder hairy guy. “No need to get all grumpy around just…chill” he said while resting his face over his staff.

“Cool beard.”

lyall pauses. this... thing. whatever this creature is-- is making a spectacle. ice everywhere. human children are slipping and sliding, easy prey if he was so inclined. lucky for them he’s not hungry. and as he inhales-- the chill nipping at his throat-- the corners of the wolf’s mouth twitch up before he forces it into a line. he likes the cold, even if he’s not sure he likes this boy.  “i’m always chill,“ he deadpans.

then leaning over lyall teases, “want to touch it?“

She hadn’t felt normal in such a long time. Every now and then she tried to starve herself, but only her movement slowed down, her thirst grew stronger, as did her bones, in a way she couldn’t rationally explain – but she didn’t die. She’d already died. Juliet couldn’t possibly hide how uncomfortable his question made her, despite his good intentions. “Eight or nine days ago, give or take.” 

Juliet heard how his heart skipped a beat and saw him relaxing shortly after. Looking up towards him, the vampiress looks deeply into his eyes, almost as to read his true intentions, but she’d always believed him to be genuine, a good mentor, one she never had. How ironic to be taught by a werewolf – an alpha, nonetheless. “Humans?” she asked innocently. “Whose life I could bring to an untimely end?” she immediately jumped up from her seat and walked down towards the forest. “I’m not interest in animals, Vita Mia.”

He holds her gaze. Allows her to take what she wants from his eyes-- big and blue and open for her. Theirs is a relationship of hard-earned respect. Of rising above ingrained impulses for what had started as a reluctant friendship, until he let her into the very heart of him. It hadn’t been easy. Instinct had demanded he tear her apart. Even now there are moments where Lyall finds his teeth sharpening around her. His claws too. But it’s all impulse, his body reacting on his own.

Even if she asked-- Lyall would never hurt her.

“Then what would you like?“ His gait is longer, and he catches up to her quickly. “A woman-- soft and sweet for you to hold and gently bruise? Or a man to break apart to get to the marrow of him? Whatever your heart desires, little lady.“