#fae 141

Of all of them, Soap was the best at luring humans to the stones.

He passed as human the best of them, could blend easily among crowds and parties. Humans found his eyes enchanting, rather than dangerous.

For a while, they'd made a game of it. Ghost dropped out first, grumbling about appearances and work. Price was next, amused more than disappointed. He knew his limits, had been around longer than any of them.

Which left Gaz and Soap.

Gaz was good, no doubt about it. He could charm humans with his words and his smiles, hiding the sharp points of his teeth.

But he still couldn't beat Soap for numbers.

Price had put a stop to their little game when they'd taken too many, when the locals got nervous and skittish, when authorities got involved. It was in everyone's best interests to keep out of that.

It was something of a point of pride for Soap. Providing for them. Guiding humans to the stones, and then through. Any human would do,

It certainly didn't hurt that Soap enjoyed hunting. Enjoyed going to bars and clubs and colleges, enjoyed the press and din of humanity, enjoyed the thrill of finding the perfect prey.

Gaz had split up a while back, going to find his own prey for the night. Soap didn't doubt he'd succeed, with a party like this. They'd be back before sunrise to the stones, as always.

But Soap wasn't thinking about Gaz. Soap was thinking about the lovely thing he wanted to play with.

She was lovely, her laugh drawing him in. She was also with friends, and seemed reluctant to stray from them.

That was fine. Soap liked a bit of a challenge.

He finally had his opportunity when the group of them started dancing, moving to the open space. His chosen plaything hovered around the edges, uncertain but still having fun.

He just had to bump into her to strike up a conversation.

But oh he wasn't prepared for the guarded way she watched him, the caution in her eyes, the practiced tilt of her smile.

Someone had hurt her before, that much was clear. He knew the signs. He'd seen them and studied them before.

After all, sometimes damaged prey was easier to hunt.

But not this one. No, this one… this one was clever. She gave him only a nickname, politely declined a drink, kept space between them. She might not know what she was dealing with, but she was good.

His teeth ached with the desire to mark her.

One of her friends threw herself at him, blonde hair in artful disarray from dancing, wide hips just asking to be bruised.

Soap wasn't one to turn down such willing prey.

But he didn't want the blonde. He wanted his chosen human.

That was alright. If he couldn't have her tonight… he'd find another time.

The blonde stumbled off to the bathroom, and Soap found his chosen again. She was still watching him, eyes bright and focused, not even a hint of haze to them.

Waiting for him to fuck up with her friend, perhaps.

He rubbed his fingers against his lips, going through scenarios and discarding them just as quickly.

Until she surprised him, walking up to him, bold as anything.

“You never told me your name.” It wasn't a demand, but the words had a little bite to them.

Soap grinned. “Ye can call me Soap,” he said, holding out his hand, the tips of his fingers buzzing.

She eyed him for a moment, debating, before she took his hand, smaller fingers folding over his skin. “Nice to meet you,” she said, though she didn't exactly sound thrilled. That was okay. Soap was busy pressing his fingers to her skin. “Hey–”

The blonde had excellent timing this time, stumbling up to his side. Soap released his chosen to settle his arm over the blonde's shoulders instead. He didn't bother listening to the exchange between the two women. There was no point.

He did pay attention as his chosen turned away, her hand flexing and clenching. For a moment, he let his sight slip. Just enough to see the mark he'd left on her skin.