The night club beckoned Michael, Joe and Mark with the prospect of drinks and chatter. They were determined to get drinks, meet some chicks, and have a fun night. Loud music engulfed them as they pushed through the crowd to the bar.
They were marines, relaxing off duty. Confident, strong-minded, well-built guys, with a little cocky glow in their eyes. They had plenty of success with girls—and they got some attention and smiles from a group of four chicks chatting around a single table.
Michael was the oldest, reaching his early forties. He was tall; his broad shoulders and strong body were almost intimidating. Bulging muscles textured the short sleeves of his shirt. He’d had a busy life, never settled down; his only family was the military. He saw combat, death, suffering. Luck followed him throughout the years, kept him alive as he travelled around the world, dealing with global threats.
During the temporary breaks from the action, he would rent an apartment and wander around the city. Bars, music, women. Luck followed him there too.
He waved back to the chicks and ordered three shots of vodka, then faced the dance floor, surveying the people. Joe hopped on the chair next to him; he was in good shape but looked slim next to Michael. Mark grabbed his shot and disappeared in the crowd, Michael knew his attitude to hunt alone.
Passing over the mist and the mess of bodies writhing on the dance floor, Michael’s eyes locked on a single girl. She was nursing a milky-white drink from a big saucer champagne glass with a thin slice of lime. It was strange that the other men kept a distance from her. Michael noticed a guy walking up to her and quickly retreating, without even making small talk. He furrowed his eyebrows, examining her figure.
Long hair spilt down her shoulders, all the way to her waist. Bleached white, it glistened under the lights like morning snow. He could see her profile: sharp cheekbones, Greek nose. His eyes went all the way down and then up again, from her high heels, up her fit legs, to the soft curves of her hips, covered by the short leather skirt. His sight followed up to her face again, over a dark blouse, tightly wrapped around her belly, stopping to enjoy her small breasts.
She looks like a runner, Michael thought. Pretty—by his standards, pretty for any male, yet still surprisingly alone.
Joe noticed his stare.
“Quite a score.”
“She looks sad.” Michael was hesitating.
“She looks lonely. Why don’t you go and keep her company?”
Michael looked at his glass, half finished by now. “Mind if I leave you early?”
Joe laughed and patted his shoulder. “She’s all yours.”
Michael downed his second shot of vodka and walked up to the girl. The air around her had a subtle scent of perfume—a wild, musky tone, noticeable even within the crowd.
Suddenly, he felt a pull. Something in that smell triggered his instincts like an alarm. Those same instincts had once saved his life when he ducked seconds before a sniper bullet hit the wall right behind him. This time, there was no sniper—it was just a dainty girl. He could easily overpower her with his 190 lbs of muscle if he ever had any reason to do that. He shrugged the alarm off and introduced himself.
The music boomed, and he couldn’t decipher her reply. He was only sure her name didn’t sound American.
He leant closer. “Coming here often?”
“It’s my first time here, you?” She was definitely talking with some accent.
After a few drinks, he got her giggling and smiling. She had a soft sweet voice and curious contacts that made her eyes dark amber. Michael noticed her nipples perking through the thin fabric. His body responded to her presence and her slightly feral scent, he felt that his pants got too tight.
“You’re not local.”
“Came in from Scotland a week ago.”
“How’s the weather in Scotland?”
She raised her eyebrows.
“Nae bad, the one day of summer was nice. Sheep.” Her gaze travelled past him as if she was looking at green hills.
“Sheep?” Michael blinked.
“Oh, right. Sorry. I’ve spent too much time with the sheep lately. Boring. Tell me about yourself.”
Could she be a shepherdess? She dressed too classy for that, he thought.
“I’m in the military. Saving the world.”
“Oh? You’re not a guy to be intimidated easily.” She nodded.
“I was once trapped under a collapsed wall. Explosion. Talibans pulled me out. Tortured me for three days. Guys came back for me, but I carry a few nasty scars from that time.”
He didn’t know why he told her that. He never shared this story with anyone. But she nodded, like if he told her about his backyard garden, and traced his forearm with a finger down to his wrist. Her fingernails were pointy and the colour of muted granite.
“You like dangerous things.” Her voice was amused.
Michael found himself replying honestly, “I like the thrill of death.”
Her smile looked slightly predatory when she bared her white teeth. “Me too.”
He finished his drink.
“Do you have any plans for the evening?”
She shook her head.
“I rent an apartment close from here. Got some good wine, and pleasant music.”
She hesitated for a moment. “Sounds fun,” she said eventually.
He got up and offered his hand, but she raised herself from her chair in a single motion, graceful and perfectly balanced. Michael hugged her, and they walked into the night.
She grabbed him as soon as Michael closed the door. Her lips were hungry, demanding; her young body impelled to his. Michael could feel her hard nipples through the thin blouse. He lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his torso. They forged ahead to the bedroom.
Michael lowered the girl onto the bed. She stretched out, a white crown of hair wrapped her face, attentive eyes watched him with hunger. The stare of a hunter, watching her prey before making the jump. He grinned at her, intoxicated by her smell. Michael had never met any woman that could excite him this much with just her fragrance. A thought wandered in—was she using an aphrodisiac?—and left. Who cared? He wanted to fuck the girl, to wipe that smug smile off her face, to hear her begging for more.
He helped her to get out of her blouse and his eyes locked on the small mountains of her breasts. They were shaped to perfection, crowned with small areolae and dark protruding nipples. He took them in his palms, feeling her soft skin. She watched him with a smile. Her lips parted more as he brushed over her nipples, and she arched her back, pressing her titties deeper into his grasp.
He rested on his elbow next to her, enjoying the view, then leant closer. They kissed while his hand explored her hills and pushed down to the curves of her hips, reaching under her short skirt. Her skin was smooth, with no panty line to interrupt the sweep of his hand. She fondled his chest, unbuttoning his shirt, then pushed him away and sat up, examining his body.
The realisation that she didn’t have panties all this time made his heart pound wild in his chest. His hands reached for the buckle; his fingers shivered as he removed his belt and pushed his pants down. He slipped out of his clothing, his erect cock jumped up high and proud. She tugged on the laces of her skirt. With the leather wrapping removed, her hips came to sight. She stretched on the bed again, bent her knee and presented her body fully naked. Her bulging labia were dark, contrasting with the ivory paleness of her skin. Her pubic hair was bleached pure white too. Michael almost moaned aloud from the gorgeous sight. Her scent reached his nostrils again, not constrained by clothes, and he felt the sweet pain as his cock grew harder.
He lowered himself over her, nostrils flaring as he sniffed her skin. It indeed had some animal hint to it. His tongue lapped over her pussy, and she shivered, clutching the blanket. She tasted as good as she smelled; although her juices were intricate, vaguely sour.
The girl trembled and moaned under his tongue. He didn’t push in too deep, only licking over the folds. He wanted to heat her up and have her begging to come. He loved watching women squirm under his tongue, pleading to do anything for him. This one was amazingly hot already; she wiggled, her back arched, her breasts rose and fell with her shallow breathing.
Finally, her moans became a constant whine, her body submitted to his tongue. Michael knew this moment, he was waiting for it. His cock was throbbing.
He mounted her, shoved his cock inside in one sweet motion and gasped. She was warm inside, almost too warm, and—oh—she was tight. He trusted in and out, sweating, trying to distract himself with any thought. His cock was about to explode, and that would be Michael’s fiasco. He stared into her amber eyes, briefly wondering what her natural eye colour was, though, the amber suited her just right. She writhed, moaning, scratching his back.
He built the tempo up, while her hands travelled up his sides; she stroked him, caressed his skin, explored his shoulders. Her energetic body responded to his pressure, relaxing as she took him deeper in, fairly tensing up as he pulled back. Her teeth bared in a moan. Beautiful, sharp fangs. Killing implements.
She bit his shoulder, and he shivered with feeling.
“I want to ride you,” she said in a husky tone.
Her voice was demanding, and he found himself obliging. He stretched on his back, glad to get a little break. His cock was a pulsing obelisk of flesh, he used all his tricks to prevent himself from orgasming. She straddled him, took him by his sack and gently pulled it down. Michael arched his back, bucking his hips towards her, but with her grip pulling his balls down, he could relax for a bit. His climax backed away, and she smiled as his expression changed.
She grabbed his cock and guided it back into her wet hole. Her hot lips wrapped his shaft again, the warm sensation was overflowing; it was like fucking someone with a fever, he could swear her body was warmer than his. She ground up and down, while Michael gripped her small perky breasts. His fingers were rough; he teased her nipples, and she smiled wide at him. His eyes focused on her teeth, tainted with blood. She had bitten through his skin, and he hadn’t noticed. Somehow he found that exciting.
His body shivered, he felt powerful waves of pulsation wrapping around his cock: squeezing and relaxing, tensing again. She picked up the rhythm, whining in a high pitch. He tried grabbing her by the hips to slow her down but she forced herself free, and he didn’t care anymore. He couldn’t hold it back.
Michael jerked his hips towards her, lifting her up, faster and faster; the feeling overflowed the barrier in his mind and he released himself to it. His hips bucked up, lifting her high and he came with a loud moan, his tension being crushed immediately in one deep shot of come. Her pussy clenched so tightly around him that he felt the shot of pain through the ecstasy of his orgasm. Her spine arched at the same time, her body convulsing as he filled her up.
A minute passed, and it felt like an eternity to him.
“You were great, baby,” Michael said and smiled. He was determined to do it again, but, for now, the girl needed cuddles. They all loved affection. His hand reached to stroke her side; fingers touched pale, smooth skin.
The girl clenched her teeth, looking deeply concerned. He could feel her orgasm dying out, but she was oddly tense, her muscles contracted.
She eyed him. He suddenly realised that her eyes changed their colour. They still were amber—dark red mixed with gold—but that gold prevailed now. Her cheekbones looked exceedingly sharp, wrapped by her rumpled hair.
The alarm bell went off in his head; he tried to move, but his penis was still stuck inside her, held trapped by her swollen vagina. The tiny girl felt like an immovable boulder. She bit her lip.
He heard a sound, one that he was so used to, one that was so inappropriate now—a bone cracking.
His eyes froze. Her shape twitched. A loud crack. And another one. Her perfect body shivered, skin ripped, exposing the sharp edge of the bone on her elbow. The fur pushed through her skin, short and white. It wrapped her arm, covered all her body in an instant. He saw a paw with dark claws, then he felt those cold claws pressing against his chest. Her body changed before he could blink, horrifying transformation reaching up and to her skull. Her cheeks ripped, baring her fangs. He couldn’t look away. He stared at her teeth. Impossibly long canines, six pointy incisors.
Her ears flicked. Cold amber eyes glared at him. The eyes of a wolf. The eyes of a hunter.
Then the darkness came for him.