The Sickly Stray
New York
4 AM


http://static.buzznet.com/uploads/2015/09/orig-22758457.jpg
Photo reference for Evalynn. Credit to the model Claudia Lynx.

A night like any other, the Blood King was on the rise. Brown leather boots carried the man through the streets of New York, the buckle clasps on the side softly clicking with each step. A soft grey long sleeve thermal shirt covered his torso, the sleeve pushed up to his elbows to expose his forearms. Black jeans that fit snugly to his legs and hips were tucked into those brown boots, and as always, decorated jewelry lined his neck and hung down to his chest, rings cluttering his fingers that clinked together when he moved those digits.

The hunt was slow, the streets nearly cleared considering the lateness of the night. A glance to a Bank sign indicated it was nearing on the 4 am marker. It was a work day, the streets were slow and the opportunities were slim. He was a savage creature, but he still had standards. At least he'd made it to the less dingier parts of New York, where the more upper class citizens tended to be residing. The prey was of higher standings, but the pickings were slim thanks to the hour. Working class citizens... how quaint..

Those boots carried him around a corner to another boulevard, closer to the coffee shops and small, family owned businesses that lined each street. He was growing impatient, mainly due to the fact that his stomach was resembling that of a groaning whale. He passed a few paired couples, mainly intoxicated as they were heading home from the closest pub. There was one in particular that stood out..

A woman looking of Western culture, in what looked like business attire. A slate grey pencil skirt that fell just above the knees, sensible heels and topping it off with a white blouse, covered by a shorter suit jacket the same shade of grey as her skirt. Silky, dark brown hair was pull up into an elegant up-do, away from her face and looked like it'd taken some time to create the style. A lovely face, all delicate features and angled brows was contorted into an expression of anger, a well-manicured finger jabbed at the buttons of an ATM. "Work... work... come on." Her riled temper, the extent of breathing, it dragged a hearty cough from her, one that rocked her curvy frame and forced her to turn away from the machine. She pulled a cloth from the inside pocket of her suit jacket, eyes of a color the Blood King couldn't see from this distance were squeezed shut as that cough rocked through her well-formed chest.

The cough sounded unhealthy, wet and perhaps even painful as she coughed into that white cloth handerchief. When the fit of coughing had resided, she took a lean against the building of which the ATM was set into, taking a breather as the back of her skull leaned back against the building. Coal-lined eyes remained closed, focusing on breathing without falling into another coughing fit, that white cloth clutched to her chest.

The Blood King wasn't horribly picky, a chest cold wouldn't prevent him from feeding from someone. It wasn't as if illness could particularly touch him. He had been watching her little fit at the machine, perhaps wondering why someone that looked like they had just stepped out of a high-standing business meeting was sitting at an ATM at 4 o'clock in the morning. She looked distressed, and that was when he decided to swoop in. Pushing aside his urge to rush her and drag her into an alley, his head swiveled back and forth, watching for traffic before he made his way across the street.

By the time he had stepped onto the sidewalk, he could see the tired lines in her face, the bags under her eyes that she tried so desperately to cover with makeup. Those eyes opened to peer at the one who'd approached, edging closer to her. Her heels set her just a couple inches shorter than him, and she shifted against the wall and turned toward the light. Caramel, her eyes are caramel. She was a pretty little thing, illness considered that made her look exhausted. But she still didn't look frail. She had air of strength as any power woman would have in a upstanding business career, perhaps a CEO or an owner. "Can I help you?"

Those hazy caramel hues drifted over his attire and frame, lingering at his coiled dreadlocks as her jaw set. She thinks I'm here to mug her. Ha. It was a feat in itself, but one he'd perfected over his centuries of life to be able to smile without showing a hint of those gaudy fangs. His hands pulled free from the pockets of his jeans, lifting up to expose empty palms to her in surrender. "Honestly, I was going to ask you the same." His voice held a touch of coarseness, underlying sultry as he put forth an effort to make him look and sound as friendly as possible. One of those raised hands curled, leaving one index finger free to point at the ATM. "You look like you're having trouble there."

"Yes, but I'm sure I can manage." Those caramel hues were laced with mistrust and weariness as she shifted her weight. "I think I may just go to a different ATM, this one seems to be broken. Thank you for offering though." She took a step back, like she was wanting to walk away, but not trusting to turn her back to him. She's smart. His smile didn't falter, however. He nodded his head, curling his hand in a come hither motion as he chuckled. "Nonsense. Come here. I've had a few problems with this one myself. It just takes a little effort. It's already late, I doubt you want to go hunting down another machine until dawn." He glanced over to her, hazels portraying that danger that he couldn't rid them of, but in what sense, it was difficult to tell sometimes. He lightly rolled his eyes at her, turning towards her and lifted his shirt. In a third party perspective, the gesture would've looked ridiculous. But beneath the shirt, he revealed nothing but a muscular stomach, angled hips and an attractive "V" line. "I don't have a weapon on me, you can relax. I'm here to help, not mug you." He gave her an expectant look as he dropped the thermal fabric of his shirt, extending his hands out. "Alright?" He feigned a touch of bashfulness, a shy smile --he knew how to play the game-- as he pointed across the street. "I, uh... I saw and heard you coughing from over there. You looked like you were struggling, my mother always told me to help a lady in distress." Don't mind me, I'm just a friendly neighbor hoodlum, dear.

She seemed skeptical at first, eyeing him as he lifted his shirt and made a show that he wasn't hiding a handgun or a blade on him. Her gaze might've lingered to what was revealed beneath the shirt, but she quickly shifted her gaze back up to his face. A slow nod as she began to believe him, until he mentioned the coughing. Those caramel orbs turned to slits before averting away, clearly not liking the fact he'd seen her having that coughing fit. "I'm not a damsel," she retorted, her jaw setting with some irritation before she slowly sighed and looked back to him. "But you're right... I don't want to be out until dawn. I just want to go home and sleep."

"Then let's get you home, huh?" He raised his brows at her, moving out of the way of the machine and made a point to wave his hand to the screen. He even gave a show of privacy as he turned his back to her, "go ahead and put your card and pin in." He spoke over his shoulder to her before turning away, seemingly keeping his eye on the traffic and those passing across the street. She seemed hesitant at first, her lips twisting as she chewed on the inside pulp of the lip before she moved forward and shoved the card back in the slot. Irritated fingers jabbed at the buttons, small beeping being heard from the computer inputting the four-digit number. "It's up." She glanced over him, nodding her head to the screen. She seemed uneasy and uncomfortable about him seeing her at the ATM, but who really felt comfortable with people seeing their balance? Moving forward, a glance to the screen indicated that she was a working class woman, but she didn't seem to have a whole lot to her name.

Those wide, hazy hues were snapped wide, her mouth wide open in a scream that refused to come out. She looked a bit dazed, perhaps due to the fact that when he'd pinned her, he'd been a bit too rough and smacked the back of her skull against the trunk. Those doe-eyes widened even further at the sight of those gruesomely long teeth, that realization that the being in front of her was no human. In a confused, dazed state, she manged to mutter, "what are you?.." It was almost a whimper, any struggle she made went unnoticed in the strength of those vice-like hands of the vampire.

He gave her a look almost like she was an idiot. He let this moment linger, perhaps a bit amused that she wasn't screaming and trying to claw at him to get away. Why is she just asking questions? Why isn't she screaming? His tongue lashed over those canines, head tilting as a single brow lifted. "You humans and your abundance of films and books... and you're still asking me what I am?" At this point, he was surprised that humans didn't just point at him at the sight of the teeth and just scream VAMPIRE! Alas, she was still questioning.

"V-v-vampire?" Fear rattled her to the bone but she refused to scream, refused to beg for mercy. She'd always taken interest in the occult, in the things that go bump in the night. She'd been facing illness since she was a young child, off and on with respirators, medications, even surgeries. They always seemed so strong... so capable... they didn't have to worry about... She didn't want to think about it.

"There you go." He mused, amusement littering his features as she got it right. He watched her for a moment, seeing her eyes widen as he confirmed her assumptions, then that horror filled realization of what he was doing. "No, please, I.." But her words were muffled by a scream that was cut off half-way by his hand clamping over her mouth, turning her head to the side as his mouth lashed forward and sunk his teeth deep into the curve of where neck met shoulder. Those canines pierced her flesh like a heated knife through butter, her blood pooling to the surface and sliding into his mouth. What is this? He made a look of disgust, a snarl tearing free and rolling over the wound as he pulled his mouth free from the wounds he'd made.

He took a step back, in doing so he released her. She slid down the tree, her hand coming up to the side of her neck where he'd bitten into, falling immediately into a coughing fit that nearly had her falling to her side. He swiped at his mouth, turning his head away to spit the blood from his mouth. "I didn't smell cancer on you." Blatantly, boldly as his expression twisted at the taste of the tainted blood from illness.

Raspy coughs rattled her lungs and spilled into her hand, gasping for air in between until she could speak. It took her a moment. "It's... it's in my bones, but it's spreading..." She lifted herself enough to sit up, one hand still placed to her bleeding neck as she tried --and failed-- to sit up. She slumped back down when the effort failed. She considering trying to run, but she knew she wouldn't make it that far. And at this point, she didn't care. Almost thirty years of treatments, she was growing tired of it. The only thing she had going for her was her career. And even that was being sucked dry by how expensive her treatments and medication were. Her insurance had long since given up on her.

Swiping at the droplets that had fallen down his chin, he listened to her lungs, questioning now. "Pneumonia?" He questioned, by the sound of her rattling lungs. Was she even worth leaving there? Perhaps he could do with a mercy kill. "COPD..." She turned her head away from, the list of her health problems were constantly growing longer. He scoffed, turning his head once more to spit the tainted blood from his mouth before he gave her a displeased once over. "I'd rather go hungry than drink your tainted blood." It was harsh, cruelty littering his features. He shifted then, moving as if to turn away from her and leave.

The hand that wasn't holding the wound lashed out toward him, desperation in her voice. "Wait! Please..." She fought, and fought hard. Collecting her legs beneath her, wobbly as ever on her heels as she used the tree trunk for support to stand. Those hazels drifted over to her, head turning to glance out of the side of his eyes. "If you ask me to help you get home, I'll tear your throat out right here." He sneered, questioning what the hell she could possibly want.

Her head shook, violent almost as she tried to relay the message quickly. "Please, you're strong." There was a raise of brow, questioning as ever as his steps had paused, turning half-way toward her, his profile revealed to her but in a way that made it easy for him to continue on if he lost interest in her words. "I can't imagine you have to worry about illness.. or being weak." Her voice was soft, pleading. Her caramel hues that she refused to allow to well up with tears. She had already shown him weakness, he knew how sick she was. But she'd be damned before she let him see her cryg. Even begging was a stretch for her, but the shift in his demeanor had her intuition falling over him. "I'm sure you've already got women fawning over you, throwing themselves at your feet." His brows furrowed then, impatience showing on his features as she seemed to go on. "I know I don't look like much.." Her gaze drifted to the ground, collecting her thoughts for a short moment before lifting them to his steely gaze. "But let me serve you.. Change me, and you can do what you want with me."

That had his brows lifting, had him fully turning toward her and crossing his arms over his chest. "You have my attention." Go on. She seemed to be racking her brain for more convincing points to make. "I own a business, I have for the past ten years. It's not much, but I've run it successfully. I can be an asset to you, in many ways. I can take care of anything you need me to do." She was babbling at this point, opening her mouth after a pause to spill more of her guts to him. Only to be shut up by his silencing hand that raise, exposing his palm to her. "I've heard enough." He turned away from her, making as if he was going to leave her there alone. Her caramel hues drifted to the ground, a pure look of defeat riddled on her features. I'm going to die of this disease... Those orbs squeezed shut, but it was his voice that had them snapping open again.

"Are you coming or not." His tone was stern, spoken through gritted teeth. He'd already made it to where the park opened up to the street, looking at her over his shoulder with a warning glare. "Don't expect me to carry you. If you want this, you'll have to show me you want it. You won't get any hand outs, and if you disappoint me, I'll kill you." Giving her the basics. He was a bit grumpy from the failed feeding.

She stared at him for a moment, the tone in his voice and the warning he gave her registered perfectly in her head. "Anything is better than this.." she muttered, nodding her head as she pushed herself away from the tree trunk that had been holding her upright. "I'm coming." Every ounce of her will and strength she used to drag herself after him, her ankles wobbling in those heels and she paused long enough to slip off the pumps and discard them beneath the tree. She'd rather walk barefoot through the streets of New York than have her new savior witness her fall on her face. Bare feet padded slowly up to him where he was waiting, looking up at him. And even though he had almost killed her, his cruel tone. She knew that he wouldn't bat a lash at tearing her head off her shoulders at any moment. But he was going to stop her suffering... whether she died or became one of his.

And he was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen in that moment.