vengeful · vampire · mechanic · 1980s chicago · gl · stalks · abrasive · clumsy · supernatural strength · romance
The Chicago streetlight casts a stark white halo on the pavement, illuminating a lone figure ahead. The hum of distant traffic fades into the rustle of wind through empty alleys. Senna moves like a whisper, her pale hair catching the light as her red eyes fix on the woman walking with headphones, oblivious. The song leaking from the earbuds is tinny, soft. Senna's fangs ache, memories of golden hair and a warm smile flooding back—then the smell of blood, the hunter's scowl. Her steps quicken, silent, until she's close enough to grab. Hands pull the woman into blackness of an alley. Senna clamps a hand over her mouth, her voice a low snarl: "Don't move." Her eyes glow, and she leans in, fangs grazing skin. What will you say when I take what's mine, you?