you wouldn't like me when i'm hungry.
hey, you don't know that! for all we know, fangs might turn me on.
in which a dhampir by the name of frances cohen saves dean winchester from a vampire, and soon finds herself being a part of the family busine...
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𝖘𝖆𝖞 𝖆 𝖕𝖗𝖆𝖞𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖒𝖊
Sleek black heels click along the cracked pavement while I make my way down the narrow strip of sidewalk, my black leather jacket wrapped tightly around my torso in hopes of diluting the chill of the bitter night breeze.
I pass by a dark alleyway, the dim yellow streetlight barely illuminating my surroundings. Soft rustling easily registered due to my heightened sense of hearing causes me to turn my head. I still, eyes widening with alert as I look past the rusted dumpsters and trash bags beyond the entrance.
I walk into the alleyway and am frozen with shock when I spot one of my vampire brethren, Boris, pinning a man with his right arm, just below his throat. He smears his bloody wrist over the man's mouth. The poor stranger is helpless, unable to move. He makes a guttural noise in protest, but can't defend himself. I can only imagine that he ingests the dark red blood.
Fury instantly courses through me. I had tried to create a better life for myself after years of being alone, deciding to live on the blood of animals. I could still ingest human food, but it never kept me satisfied. Sadly, I was the only vampire I knew of that adopted this way of life. I was an oddity in the supernatural world: I was half human, half vampire. A dhampir. It was a surprise to most of my kind that I was born, not bitten. I had a heartbeat, which allowed me to blend in much easier with humans.
I step forward, bringing myself out of the shadows. Boris doesn't notice my presence.
"I see that you're still using old tactics," I tsked, shaking my head. "It's quite amusing if I've got to be honest."
He turns at the sound of my voice and grins, revealing a row of blood-stained fangs. "Hey there, sweetheart. It's been a while."
I speed forward, wrapping my slender, tattooed fingers around his lower jaw before slamming him against the brick wall. "Haven't you learned?" I snarled, my once smooth voice turning animalistic. "Don't call me that."
Boris lets out a maniacal chuckle, and I pull my lips up, growling. In response to his laughter, my grip grows tighter, cherry red nails digging into his skin. His jawbone cracks under my touch and I can't help but smile, exposing my own set of pearly-white fangs. The canines were sharp and gleamed in the dim moonlight cast from above.
My expression hardens. "Leave. Now. Or you'll have to spend the next century without a jaw."
"Why should I listen to you?" he challenges, eyes calculating. "You're only a half-breed. A bottom feeder."
"Because I won't fucking hesitate to rip you apart, limb by limb." I grab him by the shoulders and shove him back, causing his body to soar through the air and collide with a dumpster at the end of the alleyway. A harsh thud lets me know that he made an impact. I hoped that he was injured. Or dead. "Get out of here—before I make you regret ever seeing my face."
