I will edit shortly, so excuse any errors in the last update.

Underneath the low light and loud chatter, the local pub was packed with the usual patrons. An array of jovial smiles and gleaming teeth danced about the room as everyone enjoyed their drinks and mixed company. It was like any other night, and the atmosphere was jovial and upbeat.
Lined up at the bar were five lads who had full pints before them, save for one. Sipping from a glass of dark red wine was a young man eclectically painted in brightly colored tattooed. As he lips caressed the side of the pristine glass, his mates conversed and surveyed their crowded surroundings. From time to time, a devious smile curled across his soft red lips when someone would comment on an attractive female that passed by. Diligently, his eyes watched his back from the mirror fixed behind the glowing liquors and liquors. A heated intent rested in his gaze as he examined the females sauntering and strutting about.
“See something you like, mate?” chuckled his friend and bandmate Jordan Fish, who wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
“Several actually,” Oliver answered, lifting an intrigued eyebrow.
“Well, seems to be quite a few choices about!” exclaimed Matt Nicholls, taking a deep swig of beer.
“Hey Oli!” Lee Malia called over the loud mob encroached at their backs. “Where to after this?”
“No clue, mate,” he answered, attention still surveying through the mirror’s reflection. “I might call it a night after this.”
“That’s no fun,” grinned Matt Kean, pushing his empty glass towards the bartender for a refill.
“I’m quite spent,” the young man added with a shift of his eyes. “All this song writing is… draining.”
As everyone returned to their own conversations, Oliver resumed his silent observing. So many potential sources stood out, and it stirred his adrenaline. Keeping his cool, he brought the wine glass to his mouth. The soothing elixir hit his taste buds like a sweet spring breeze, but it wasn’t enough to quell his true craving.
Across the stifling floor, the throng of people seemed to part like a heavy stage curtain being drawn back. Stares and intrigued stares followed the striking young woman who had appeared from nowhere. Ignoring the gawking and low whispers, her back stayed straight with a strong confidence. Gracefully, her  high heeled black leather boots clicked and clacked against the hardwood floor, carrying her to the bar. Her intense extraordinary violet eyes flashed dangerously in the low lighting. Adorned in a red and black victorian styled corset and tightly fitted ripped jeans, she came to a stop behind two unsuspecting patrons. Sensing the unearthly presence, the men standing in her way quickly moved aside and allowed her to belly up to the counter.
Witnessing the tall woman’s entrance, Oliver found himself transfixed. His breath began to quicken at the sight of the dark beauty. Turning his head slowly, his glistening brown eyes traced over her shiny, dark red wavy curls. It resembled that of a darkening pool of coagulating blood. As his breath hitched in his throat, he felt his hidden secret ache inside his mouth. Though he needed a fix, he also welcomed a challenge, and this creature looked to be a perfect selection.
“Excuse me,” he grinned, taking leave of his friends.
Slipping through the human crush with ease, he approached the woman with a growing sense of arrogance. In no time, he found himself at her side, his chest grazing her shoulder. He spoke not a word as he watched the bartender slide a glass of red wine to her. Tenderly, her long artistic fingers wrapped themselves around the glass goblet. She was obviously ignoring his closeness, and he could sense it as she partook of the drink.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever noticed you here before,” Oliver cooed, leaning in closer.
Refusing to answer him, she silently sat the glass down. Even though not a word danced from her tongue, her eyes were fixed on him through the mirror. She held a relaxed, yet cocky posture, permitting him to get as close as he could. His voice was familiar, and the artwork splashed against his skin gave him away easily.
“Not one for conversation then, luv?” asked the over flirtatious youth, grinning like a cheshire cat.
“Not quite,” rolled her even, yet sultry voice.
The sound of her voice sent goosebumps racing over his skin. It sounded felt like rippling waters on a peaceful lake. He began to presume that this could be a truly exciting evening.
“Then might I get a name?” he pressed, resting an elbow against the bar, wanting a better look at her breathtakingly chiseled face.
“Darcy,” she threw out quickly, still refraining from eye contact. “And yours?”
“Oliver,” came his retort.
With a gentle brush of his hand, he pushed her hair over her slender shoulder. Taking in her smooth porcelain skin, he could feel his heart rate spike with excitement. He couldn’t help but take in the long swanlike neck that rested just so. His acute eye sight could see her pulse pushing the blood through the vein that traveled up the side. What struck him to be odd was how subdued and calm the beat was. She didn’t seemed riled by his presence.
“It’s odd for such a lovely young lady to be in this establishment.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” she advised, knowing where his attention had fell.
“How so?” whispered the enraptured youth, allowing his eyes to move to her face.
Finally, she made eye contact. They drilled deep inside him, and she wasn’t going to let him out of her sight now. As their gazes locked, she read him like a book. The old trick of glamouring one was the oldest tricks, and it would not work on her. Even under the terrible illumination of the room, she could see his pupils shift ever so slightly, but the attempt was truly in vain.
“I am quite older,” Darcy pointed firmly.
“Oh?” he grinned, refusing to give up. “And how old are we? Older women intrigue me.”
Picking up her glass, she sipped from it slowly. This was becoming funny to her. As an unamused chuckle crept up her throat, she shook her head.
“That’s my little secret, but I can tell you are too young for your own good.”
The sarcastic jab caught him off guard, and he noticed that his alluring technique wasn’t registering. Everything about her started to become confusing an odd. Any woman he’s ever cornered would instantly fall under his spell. Not giving up, he took it upon himself to push a strand of hair behind her ear. As his fingers played against her ear, it felt odd against his touch. Taking a quick look, he saw its odd, pointy shape. He instantly froze at the sight.
“Interesting,” he breathed, looking to her cool expression.
Taking to her feet, Darcy paid for her drink and turned to him. Seductively, she slid her hand against his tattooed neck. As she pulled him in, her hold switched instantly against the rose emblazoned against his throat. Like a cat kneading a warm blanket in contentment, her fingernails pressed against his skin. Face to face, she snarled, making sure he was watching and listening closely.
“Your tricks don’t work on me, boy,” her tone slipping into a dark threat. “You came close to death two nights ago. You’re on thin ice.”
Appalled, he glared back, feeling the pressure intensifying against his windpipe. This woman was more than she seemed, and somehow she’d figured him out. Whatever she knew gave him a twinge of fear, but he wasn’t one to back down.
“What the fuck do you know?” he growled, keeping himself close so no prying ears would hear.
“More than enough,” she laid out, feeling his skin stretching underneath her sharp nails. “You kill again, and I’ll make sure you join our ancestors.”
Instantly, his mind blurred at the threat. Fighting to form a rebuttal, she swiftly pushed him back with a hidden force. As he stumbled into a couple of unsuspecting people, she disappeared through the crowd. Panic gripped him tight, and yet curiosity was getting the better of him. Pushing up from the now grumbling and complaining patrons, he swiftly began searching her out. In a blur, he took leave of the bar and found himself in the quiet streets. Putting his strong hearing to work, he picked up the soft stomping of boots in the distance.
“You’re not getting away that easily,” Oliver growled under his breath, following the trail of sound.
The overwhelmed man stuck to the shadows when he could, getting closer and closer to the clicking of Darcy’s shoes. Devilishly, he smiled, rounding a corner, knowing she wasn’t far. His pace quickened as the rhythmic steps felt to be in reaching distance. Suddenly, the stopped, leaving him motionless. Franticly, his eyes searched the sidewalk he found himself on. He didn’t know how long he’d been walking, but it couldn’t have been long. Lifting his head, brown orbs flashing, he drew in a deep breath of the night air through his nostrils. Nothing. It was if she didn’t exist.
Without warning, something grabbed him into the darkness of a vacant alleyway. Growling like a mad animal, he began to fight against the attacker. Before he could lay any blows, he was slammed against the bricks. Fangs bared, and heavy breaths pressing through, he was met by Darcy’s intense violet stare. Trying to raise off the wall, he was stopped by a cold silver blade. His body froze instantaneously, the threat settling in as real.
“If you’re going to fucking do it, make it quick,” Oliver instructed angrily, chest rising and falling heavily.
“If I was going to do so, I would’ve already done it,” Darcy pointed out calmly, pinning him tight.
“Then let me go,” he growled, teeth flashing feverishly.
“Not quite yet,” she said, resting the blade against his skin. “You’re as I am, but you’ve chosen the wrong path.”
“Excuse me?”
“I know what you are, and you are lucky. I could’ve cut you down within seconds when you drained that woman. Luckily, for you, I picked up your scent.”
Falling silent, he studied her facial features. It slowly started to make sense: the ears, the sharp bone structure, tall stature, odd eye color, and keen senses. For his many years he’d never come across someone like him. He’d always felt alone and unique. This revelation made him nervous, an emotion he’d refused for ages… literally.
“I have to to survive. You should know that,” came his excuse as he fought to clench his mouth shut.
“There are other ways. You have a human side that’s been dormant, and you could adapt,” she stated strongly, still refusing to let him move. “I’m not one to let a kill slip through, but there’s a first for everything.”
“Why are you letting me live?” he asked, eyes wide and searching.
“Because of my moral code. I will not kill my own unless truly warranted. But let this be a warning, because I am tracking you now. You kill again, I’ll break that code.”
Falling silent, the two stared intensely. Oliver’s movements became still as she slowly drew back her weapon. Commanding his fangs to retract, he leaned his head back against the cold facade.
“I can’t survive without it, and you know that.”
“Yes you can. I know that you have close friends. Follow their habits and fight,” Darcy said, sliding the dagger into a fixture lain in her corset.
At a loss for words, he glanced away from her, trying to keep his mind straight. In the blink of an eye he felt his world changing, and he couldn’t stop it. His secret had stayed in place for so long, and no he was on unchartered territory. Knowing where to start was baffling. Turning his head back to speak up, he found himself alone. Like a whisper, she was gone. Stumbling away from the wall, he looked this way and that. She’d left no trace. All the placed in his hands was a decision… a decision that meant life or death.
One thing was certain, he had to find her again. He couldn’t do this alone. No one knew what he was, and he couldn’t divulge that. Not now, not ever.

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Previous Chapters: The Fox & The Wolf

Things might be heating up!

Eek!