Incendiary

Cloaked in shadows, I fought my instincts. The heavenly scent of human blood hung heavily in the air, and it took an immense amount of focus on my part not to allow my inner demons to climb out and take over. It was ingrained in all of my kind to go into a hunting mode when fleshy, blood-pumping mortals were around. In my many years as a monster, I had trained myself to become desensitized when it suited me. Even with all my practice, it was extremely difficult. However, it did help that I didn't have to breathe but every few minutes. Our bodies worked in peculiar ways.

I had my hazel eyes trained on a woman across the street, stumbling home after what I could only presume was a night out at a club. I wasn't particularly fond of feeding from drunks. Their blood was bitter and the effects of the alcohol wore off on me, as well. But I was hungry and in no mood to do any more searching.

When it came to meals, I preferred women to men. They were a bit more trusting and thought nothing of another woman approaching them at night on the street. Though they put up a fight, they tended to plead more than anything in the end. Men on the other hand, though usually welcoming to my approach, tended to be taller and more muscular, and often assumed that they could easily overpower me. A struggling meal was a bit less enjoyable, even if I was exceedingly stronger than them.

I focused in on the woman. She had short auburn hair that was surprisingly neat for all the bumbling around she was doing. Jeans hugged her hips and a tight, sleeveless black top that plummeted in the front left little to the imagination.

I frowned. If I weren't so goddamned thirsty, I would set my sights on someone a little less drunk and little less promiscuous. I didn't have the patience to be picky, though, especially since my tremors were getting worse.

I was standing in an alleyway behind my apartment. It was a narrow space, sandwiched between my building and another one that housed various restaurants and stores.

I was focused, all of my senses directed toward the woman. I made the careless mistake of not checking my surroundings, and just as I started to move out of the shadows, I felt a light tap on my shoulder.

Instantaneously, I spun on my heel, wrapping a taloned hand around the unsuspecting mortal's throat and slamming them into the brick wall next to us. I felt my eyes flood red and my teeth sharpen into fangs. So much for my valiant effort at concentration and keeping myself in check.

I had my hand wrapped around a man's throat. Even though I was 5'10", he stood over me by a good five inches. He was obviously well-muscled, so I immediately assumed he would put up a fight. His eyes were a strange green and a thick crop of black hair covered his head. He peered down at me from behind a pair of reading glasses, his pupils dilated in the dim light.

The smell of his blood tinged the air, and I realized that the back of his head was bleeding. Much to my surprise, he didn't struggle or try to fight, perhaps due to the stun of his injury.

I glanced around quickly to see where he had come from, noticing the back door to a small restaurant stood slightly ajar. He would be missed if I took him, but I couldn't have him roaming around after he had seen me.

With an infuriated snarl, I snaked my talons through his hair and yanked him along behind me, quickly skirting the open door as I headed for the fire escape of my apartment. He was too bulky to carry, so I climbed up first and guided him by sharp tugs on his hair.

He didn't scream or yell or call for help. He simply followed me, still seeming dazed.

Once we were finally in my apartment, in the vacant room I reserved for meals, I shoved him to the ground. I cocked my head angrily, frustrated that he had ruined my original plan.

I tried to stick with women who were walking home late at night. It seemed less conspicuous than picking people up during their shift at the local eatery.

I trembled as I glared down at the man, yearning to taste the fluid flowing through his veins. He stared back at me, lying awkwardly propped up on one elbow.

Still, he didn't plead or fight.

Something occurred to me just as I was closing in on him: he smelled strangely. I couldn't quite pinpoint why. He definitely smelled human, but there was something intermixed.

I gnashed my fangs in frustration, moving in on him. I pressed against his chest with my foot so that he was lying flat before I straddled his ribcage. I glared down at him, waiting for any defensive action. He remained stationary.

What the fuck was wrong with this guy? Humans squealed and fought. They tried in vain to get away. They used many futile moves in desperation. This one just laid there.

I watched as a small pool of blood formed beneath his head, shoulders trembling with anticipation. I yanked at his shirt, easily clawing through the shoulder of the material to reach his flesh. I liked feeding through their shoulders. They died slower than if I bit straight into their jugular and I typically wasted less blood this way.

I leaned forward, casting one more hesitant glance at the human's face before I sank my teeth into his shoulder. My fangs didn't pierce the flesh cleanly and smoothly, but rather roughly and jaggedly, like I was cutting meat with a dull knife. His blood quickly began pouring into my mouth, and that was when he made his first noise. He kind of grunted and then he lifted a hand to the back of my leg, squeezing lightly just above my knee.

I flew up in a rage, extracting my teeth from his shoulder and stepping away. I loathed it when humans touched me. They usually fought or struggled, but they didn't touch. They didn't seek any form of comfort from me. I refused to allow it, anyway.

"Why aren't you fighting back?" I snarled, my solid colored eyes boring into his.

He took a second to respond, wetting his lips.

"Because my head really fucking hurts," he groaned, blinking at me.

That wasn't the answer I typically got. This one was intriguing.