MIDNIGHT PREY

—>SEBASTIAN'S POV<—

Last night's encounter with the female Seraphling was intriguing. Beneath her chilly reserve, I sensed a kind heart. She bore a striking resemblance to a formidable Seraphling from my past.

Like the Seraphlings, I ventured into the realm of hunting. A skilled hunter wouldn't simply leave the forest after bagging a single prey; they'd press on, seeking to maximize their haul. This relentless pursuit of multiple quarries is what distinguishes a strong hunter.

My plan was straightforward; exterminate as many monsters as possible before departing Metairie. Yet, despite my noble endeavor, I was paradoxically branded a monster myself. The reason was simple; I sustained myself on human blood, a trait akin to that of the Vampires.

Although I could subsist without it, I had a penchant for feeding on humans. I didn't view it as a malevolent act, but rather as a form of tribute or compensation. In my mind, I was protecting humans by eradicating monsters, so I saw their blood as an indirect reward for my services.

While I could sustain myself on the blood of Vampires, Werewolves, and other creatures, human blood remained the most exquisite. This craving lingered in my mind as I followed a stunning blonde, her golden locks cascading down her back, as she navigated the dark streets. My pursuit ended when she safely reached her residence.

As she stepped inside, the door creaked shut behind her, enveloping her within the cozy confines of her miniature stone cottage, adorned with refined glass windows. Ordinarily, as a Vampire, gaining entry into this residence would have been an insurmountable task, requiring the owner's explicit permission. 

Fortunately, I wasn't a Vampire, so slipping in unnoticed was effortless. I attempted to enter, but the door refused to budge. Clunk! The unmistakable sound of a locked door greeted me. A sly smile spread across my face; I reveled in the thrill of the hunt, and obstacles only served to heighten my anticipation.

With a mere whisper of strength, the doorknob shattered, granting me effortless entry. As I stepped inside, my gaze rose to the dazzling chandelier suspended from the ceiling, while my eyes also swept across the expansive frames adorning the walls. Meanwhile, my acute hearing— a hallmark of predatory supernatural species, picked up the soft sounds of my quarry disrobing in an adjacent room, her gentle panting a tantalizing serenade.

I glided effortlessly across the solid tiled floor, my footsteps silent as I closed in on my quarry's location. I savored the experience, drinking in the scents that permeated the entire building. By the time I reached the room, my prey had slipped into the bathroom, unaware of the danger lurking just beyond the door.

I slipped into the room, and a peculiar aroma enveloped me. The scent was unmistakable, one that I hadn't encountered in centuries. My senses zeroed in on its source, and my gaze became fixated on the delicate red lingerie draped across the bed. The sight stirred a long-dormant longing within me; it had been ages since I'd last laid hands on such tantalizing apparel.

I shook off the feeling and my gaze shifted to the plush armchair beside the bed. I settled into it, my eyes fixed on the bathroom door, patiently waiting for my quarry to emerge.

What felt like an eternity finally passed, and my quarry emerged from the bathroom, her slender form enveloped in a crisp white towel. Our eyes met, and her gaze froze in terror.

A startled gasp escaped her lips, and a look of abject fear etched itself on her face. "W-who are you?" She stammered, her voice trembling as she clutched the towel tightly around herself, her eyes wide with fear.

My gaze traversed her form, from the golden locks cascading down her back to her delicate feet. Her body was a masterpiece of proportion and curves. My eyes lingered on the slender neck, where veins pulsed with an irresistible allure.

As my fangs slowly emerged, her terror escalated. A blood-curdling scream tore from her lips, and she flung herself at the door. With a burst of adrenaline, she shoved it open and vanished from my sight.

She sprinted toward the exit, her hand outstretched for the door handle, but mere steps away, she was halted by the piercing gaze of my golden eyes. A startled gasp wrenched from her throat, and fear propelled her toward a nearby window in a frantic bid for freedom.

Undeterred, she lunged at the glass, but I materialized before her once more, my presence an unyielding barrier between her and escape.

This was made possible by the supernatural speed inherent to predatory species. A longstanding debate raged among them— which was faster, Vampires or Werewolves? While Werewolves boasted natural swiftness, Vampires held the edge; except during the full moon, when Werewolves' velocities rivaled, if not surpassed, those of the Vampires.

I belonged to neither of those species, but as a monster engineered to hunt them down, I possessed unparalleled speed. My quarry continued to flee, but I consistently materialized before her, thwarting her escape. Eventually, exhaustion took its toll, and she let out a scream that was no longer just fearful, but utterly despairing.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?" She shrieked, her voice cracking with desperation. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she trembled with fear.

Just as I was about to respond, my ears pricked up, detecting the sound of rapid footsteps echoing from a distance, several meters away from the building. It was clear that someone had been alerted by the commotion.

I pounced, my hands encircling her slender waist as my fangs sank into the tender skin of her neck. The rush of her blood into my system was intoxicating, and her screams were reduced to mere melodic whispers, a symphony of pleasure that only heightened my euphoria.

The footsteps drew nearer, but I remained entranced, too enthralled by the blood's intoxicating effects to concern myself with the approaching figure. As the person pushed open the door, now hanging crookedly from its broken knob, they were met with a gruesome tableau; a blonde woman, clad only in a white towel, her neck twisted at an unnatural angle, with two puncture wounds oozing blood.

I had vanished into thin air, leaving behind another enigmatic crime scene for the Seraphlings to decipher. My thirst for blood had proven too great to resist, eclipsing my intentions regarding the Syntax. This unyielding hunger was the very essence of my monstrosity.