"Werewolves. Large, vicious creatures with a very poor sense of hygiene. God I could smell them everywhere. It was horrendous."
Rachael Mills, a newly turned vampire, on the run from a wolf gang after killing the alphas beta, seeks refuge in a smal...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
* * *
"What are you?" A small girl looked up at me, eyes gleaming with tears. I felt my self losing control again, simply by looking at the girls father. I smelt her as well, her sweet scent of purity and youth. I heard a feral purr escaping my lips as my fangs began to lengthen and poke my bottom lip.
"Run," I whispered harshly. The girl didn't need to be told twice, she darted from my sight, as fast as her little legs could take her. I focused my blood lust on the body of her father, a whimpering, pathetic excuse for a werewolf. He groaned and hauled him self into a sitting position and leaned against the wall. He clutched his shoulder, that I accidentally ripped open in a rage of hunger. I couldn't control myself, and the more human part of me didn't care,after all I had nothing to lose, I didn't have any family or friends, or if I did, they had been wiped clean of my memory.
"Run, papa wolf," I purr, flicking my tongue out to wet my lips. I crouched down in front of him, carefully inspecting the fine lines of his face. I always remember my victims.
"Fuck you-" He gargles and hacks up a ball of blood, spitting it at my feet. I look down, sighing and wiping my knee high black boot on a hay bale near by, before turning on him in the blink of an eye, pressing the heel of my boot into his throat.
"Don't tempt me werewolf," I sneer, "I can make your death slow, and oh so, sweet," I whisper. I leaned down towards his neck, before my head snapped to the attention of howling.
"Damn," I mutter. I look down at the wolf and unceremoniously shove the heel of my boot into his jugular, making him let out a gargling screech. Blood began to squirt everywhere, practically coating me in it. I'd have to burn these clothes to cover my tracks. I licked my fingers, before flashing the spasming wolf one last fanged grin. I jumped through an open window, looking towards a large expanse of forest.
"Perfect," I whisper, before shrinking into the darkness of the forest-
"On the house love," The bartender snaps me out of my thoughts, resting a glass of whisky in front of me. I inhale the sickly aroma of it and sneer.
"I'll pass, but thank you," I say, pushing it away from me.
"Suit your self," he shrugs and continues to thoroughly clean the glass he held. Since I had turned three months ago, I found that everything had lost its taste, and everything smelled so...horrible, compared to people. I looked up at the bar tender, a raunchy, bulky looking man with a graying beard and wisps of hair attached to his head. I looked down slightly to see a vein in his neck, bulging ever so gently from his skin. I felt my fangs begin to lengthen. Suddenly, the doors of the pub slam open, carrying the foulest smell I have ever smelt. But I've smelt it before.
