Ebony's POV
I was wondering. Lost and thirsty under the dark blanket of the night sky. The moon shone bright, glaring at me, watching my every move. My throat, in pain, was as dry as a desert and my sharp fangs craved the touch of human flesh. Only a few more lonely hours of walking, on this cruel world, before flapping my my black bat wings away from the agonising sunlight.
Footsteps. Her heels hit the ground. I have her. I must. Her forehead leaking sweat, the moonlight reflecting, making this obvious. Her blonde flowing hair remained still in the windless darkness. Her tight dress exposing the shape of her perfectly structured body.
My swift movement; silence; was enough for me to stand behind the drunken women, taking in her scent, taking in her looks, taking my move.
My fangs pierced into the side of her neck. She gasped, the beautiful aching showing. The thick, soft, crimson fluid flowing from her wound. My drink awaits me.
I didn't bother to wipe away the wine-coloured substance from my tender lips. I stared down at the pale, weak, pathetic female. Blood drained. A sinister smirk, evil enough to kill a person, spread across my face. My unpronounced footsteps carried me away from the scene. I was never there...