Stepping out into blessed darkness, Nicholas stumbled, nearly falling to the cobblestones. He blinked, but his eyes were working perfectly, his mind was clouded and confused. He swung his head from side to side, holding his breath against the overwhelming aroma of fish. Not looking back at the empty vessel he had stowed away on or the bodies littering the deck, he followed his nose to something at least slightly sweeter.
Without luck, he wandered up and down the streets, eventually coming to the realization that he wasn't in a simple port, but a thriving metropolis. London, if he remembered the direction the ship had taken, newly restored after the fire.
He paused to remember the fishing captain and his small crew. It had only been a short trip from the continent, not much more than a day. Tormented by his conscience, he had stayed hidden on that moored ship for ten days. Now his was thirsty again, so thirsty he couldn't think.
“Got any money, Cap'n?” a woman called from one of the many narrow alleys. Nicholas squinted at her, sizing her up. She would definitely purge the thirst. “I can give you a good night if you can pay.” Her accent turned the words into sharp scratching sounds that tore at his vampiric ears, sensitive enough to pick up distant whispers. Her blood sang to him though, and the more he regarded her, the more he realized that no one would miss her.
“What do you say, Capn?”
Why did she call him that? It took a full minute for him to remember that he had stolen clothes from the ship. Rather than answer, he seized the prostitute, crushing his mouth to hers.
She squirmed a little in his arms at first, but settled into the kiss quickly when she realized it wasn't an attack. She tasted of rancid oil and cheap wine, not appealing at all, but the longer he kissed her, the cooperative she would become. Nicholas' kiss was charged with magical factor in his saliva, one that could arouse even the least interested man or woman. This woman, prepared for sex, melted at it.
“Yes,” she breathed, gasping. “Can you pay now?” she asked.
Nicholas didn't ask, working the buttons on his pants free so he might take the willing woman. The rough wool fell and he spun to hold the prostitute against the wall of one of the buildings. She didn't ask for payment again, as he thrust into her, nipping her skin.
“Yes, fuck, take me.”
He did just that, but he needed more, he needed what pulsed inside her. Unable to stop himself, Nicholas bit into her shoulder and began sucking heavily at the wound swallowing mouthful after mouthful of her sweet blood, much sweeter than any other part of her.
Her cries never changed from pleasure to pain, rather, they softened and hushed until she made no noise at all. Nicholas continued thrusting a few more times, but it was clear the woman could give him nothing more. Stepping back, the body slumped to the ground. Looking into her lifeless eyes, Nicholas was haunted by her. How could he? It had only been a few days. It was getting worse. Soon he'd be killing indiscriminately and run out of town, or worse burned. Turning, he ran and didn't stop until first pink rays were touching the sky.
