He moves through the crowd with ease; not using the sharp jab of an elbow or the firm press of a foot, but rather slipping in the inbetween spaces as though he belongs there.

Dawn’s been watching him for longer than she’d care to admit, and when he stops in front of her, flashes that blinding, beautiful smile her way and asks if he can buy her something to drink, she agrees in spite of herself.

One more white-hot grin, and Dawn foregoes the drink, grabs his hand and leads him into the alley behind the club. She lets him press her up against the wall, feels the brick bite into her back and has to swallow down a moan when he rocks against her, hard with a sort of desire so dark it swallows you whole. But she’s always loved being needed, and so she makes no objections when he shoves her panties aside, works her clit until she’s gasping for air, for more, for *something*, and when he pushes his cock into her, she closes her eyes, moans out something that isn’t his name - can’t be, because she doesn’t know it - she feels his smile against her neck.

The scrape of teeth against her skin makes her shiver, and she comes right before he does, with his lips pressing words to her throat.

“What?” she whispers, certain she should know what he’s just said, and he pulls out of her, zips up his pants. Grins at her with a predatory lust, and too late she realizes it isn’t merely desire for her.

He moves a little closer, and she feels a burn deep within her, so hot it blazes like fire. He whispers back,

“I said, I don’t usually fuck vampires.”

And she realizes, too late, the cause of this heat isn’t merely desire for him. She’s burning up from the inside out, and the last thing she sees is his stake through her heart.