into small spaces and smaller purses, often exploded. Glass
shattered. Loud, discordant, voices carried. The siren call
of violence.
Richard jerked his head towards the event and
depleting meagre reserves, unfurled unparalleled hunting
senses. An altercation… naturally with an audience,
blocked a narrow lane upwind from here. Sounds and
smells floated towards him. He opened his mouth and the
fight’s hostile energy fizzed across his tongue like
champagne.
Grasping the woman’s jaw, he angled her face
upwards. Using his larynx required air. Just as well the city
air he’d eschewed just moments ago, was now desirable.
He filled his lungs.
“Remember me favourably.” His needful growl
betrayed the depth of his –their–hunger.
She seemed to like the sound, smiling coyly and
running her fingers through his long ponytail.
Impatience.
Irritation. He shot back.
Unspoken yet felt, the ancient creature’s complaint
gnawed within him. Starved of sustenance and stimulation,
the vampire’s influence and enhancements were weak, and
the host’s finely-honed sense of self-preservation
protected both entities. The balance of power was literally
fluid - and turning like the tide. Unappetising as the street
walker was as an entrée, she qualified as sustenance.
The vampire strengthened, stirred; craved the feast
and the exhilaration that the fight promised.
88