Page 2 of Feral

“Wh-what are you gonna do to me?”

I fully let go of the restraint it takes to keep my monster at bay. Scott gasps, his heart rate speeding up as the scent of fear pours off him in waves.

Ah yes, feed me.

“I’m going to tear your dick off.” I rub my thumb across his chin as he trembles beneath my touch. “Then I’m going to slash your throat and watch your blood stain the concrete.”

“Please,” he whimpers. “I’ll do anything.”

Studying his face for a second, I lurch forward and sink my fangs into his neck. He screams, the sound piercing through the patter of falling rain, but no one will come to his aid. Not in this part of town.

As I drink, images of his memories and actions rush through me, tainting the taste of the blood. I feel the dark thoughts that live in his mind, see how he hunts the vulnerable of New Onyx, luring them to his car only to assault them and leave them without payment. A river of guilt runs through him, but he’s powerless against his urges to hurt women.

Seems like I’m doing him and the city a favor.

I slide my hand down his chest and torso, stopping between his legs before using my nails to rip through the denim of his jeans and tear his offending appendage straight off his body, tossing it to the ground with a splat. He screams again, his pitch higher and more frantic, but this time the sound is cut off by me tearing through the flesh of his neck.

His skin gives way easily, the blood thick and dark, staining his shirt and my chin. His eyes widen, shocked and horrified as the realization sinks in that I meant what I said.

Once the guilt and darkness have been bled from him, his blood turns sweet, and I smile as I drink down the last remnants before I release him and watch his body slump to the ground.

He’s still alive, twitching and trying to grab his throat or his crotch, but he’s too weak to do either. Blood pours in pretty rivers from his injuries, pooling beneath him. I wipe my chin with the back of my hand before I kneel.

“Does it hurt?”

He grunts in an attempt to speak, but only gurgling comes out.

“Yes, I imagine it does.” I swipe his messy blond hair from his wet brow. Even through the rain, I can smell the sour sweat he produced. “As you die, I want you to think about all the women you hurt, Scott. Think about all the women who cried after an interaction with you.”

“Wh…wh…” He struggles to speak through the blood and pain.

I lean closer. “What’s that?”

His brow creases with pain and he chokes, but manages to creak, “Wh-wh-why?”

“Why did I do this?”

His nod is subtle.

“Oh, because I hate men like you. Because I need to feed the monster inside me, and who better than a piece of shit who thinks he’s a big man? I rid the city of a little trash and let off some steam. Win-win, no?”

He opens his mouth, but it fills with blood.

“They’ll find you in the morning and tell your loved ones. Do you have a wife? Kids too, I bet.”

His eyelids flutter in response.

“Tut, tut.” I shake my head. “Shame. I’m sure they’re better off without you.”

I drag my finger through the blood, tasting more of his memories but instantly wishing I hadn’t. A pretty child with blond ringlets, likely around nine or ten, is curled up in her bed, sniffling quietly as this man, her father, stands in her doorway rubbing his erection through his boxers.

“Gods,” I whisper. “Your own child. You’re a sick man, Scott.” I grip his chin, forcing him to look at my face. “The city is a little better off tonight. Now hurry up and die. I have other things to do.”

It only takes a few more minutes before death stills his body, leaving him lifeless, eyes open to the sky above. Satisfied with my work, I lift my face to the rain, letting it wash away any remnants of what just occurred.

The monster inside me is sated. For now.

I slip out the rooftop door of Lair, the vampire nightclub I help run, just for a few moments of peace. As I tilt my head back and gaze up at the sky, my mind drifts to the events that brought me here, as it always does when it’s quiet enough.

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