Young. Naive. Thirsty.
Three words to describe Jungkook, newborn Vampire surviving on his own in a huge tempting city full of danger and mystery. His resistance to kill makes getting what he needs a tad bit difficult, especially when he meets a hu...
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Unassuming and inconspicuous, J steps from the hollowed hallway of the VIP floor, still rubbing his palms with a silken handkerchief. Trailing behind him are his henchmen, one of them sucking the remnants of the young woman from his teeth, and the other toting the sagging velvet sack in his fist.
All in a day's work.
A phrase he often repeated to himself after carrying out his jobs such as this. Rarely as gorey but all the same. He was an executive and executioner of sorts.
His employer's instructions were always simple. Regulate and eliminate whoever put themselves on their radar, which didn't usually involve yanking dead hearts and disposing of the husks of drug-addicted strippers in the Atlantic, but in a city like this, it was never hard to pick out the unruly of the herd.
And with the uptick in disappearances and bodies turning up all over downtown, J needed to bring his skills out of retirement.
His expression is stoic and as dauntingly beautiful as the darkest night as the flashing lights paint his fair complexion in veils of pink and blue. Bordome hardens his brow despite the intensity of the atmosphere but an enamoring aroma catches his attention the closer they draw towards the club's main floor.
Among all of the scents of lust, smoke, sweat, liquor, and blood calling to his thirst, existed one that stood out among the rest.
He paused at the top of the steps, causing his allies to stall behind him as he sniffed the air again.
A long deep inhale.
A whispered growl of an exhale.
"Hmmm...." His raspy hum of approval vibrates in his throat as he swallows.
"Exquisite..." he says with the point of his tongue caressing his canine, his shaded light eyes flashing with greed as he spotted the source of interest.
From across Pulse, Deja exits the dressing room with her backpack over her shoulder, squinting at the haziness that thickened the cool air flowing overhead on the main floor.
The club was at its normal capacity, music agonizingly loud with stage lights spinning cool and warm hues all over to kiss every surface.
Thankful to be in flat Nikes and not her heels anymore, she steps with purpose as she descends the stairs in her skin-tight leggings and cropped hoodie from the second floor.
Tonight was typical. The bottom of her bag sagged with her tips and her feet felt like lead with each downward step.
She wishes security a good night like she always did as she embarked on making her way through the crowd.
