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I did manage to keep up a solid pace beside him for a while...but in his mind, I doubt that I was even there anymore. My presence was simply 'unimportant' to his conscious while his blood-starved body searched frantically for an efficient method of getting its nourishment. Taryn's senses shut me out, and I must admit to being a bit curious as to how this would go down once he made the leap towards his chosen target.

Actually, there was a certain sexual allure to his menacing approach. An excitement that burned inside of me as he aggressively moved closer to a moment of attack. My God...watching him do that was making him so HOT in my eyes. Hardly the reaction I expected from watching my boyfriend plot out the execution of another human being. But my nostrils flared, my lips curled up into a flirtatious grin, and my eyes remained glued to his slim, waifish, frame as increased his speed slightly. Completely lost in the thirst now...Taryn's brilliant green eyes turned a deep, murderous, shade of scarlet....and I was left behind to lean against the brick wall on the side of the alley as he continued moving forward.

The man sounded like he was mumbling to himself. In either Russian or Polish, from the sound of it. But clearly a Chicagoan, born and bred. I could tell by the accent. Don't ask me how though. These extras just kinda take on a life of their own after they've been recognized. Taryn moved in closer, his pace now slowing down, little by little. I couldn't help but stare. With the exception of the night that he actually sunk his fangs into my own flesh, Taryn had been very careful about letting me see him feed. In fact, MOST of the people at the lot treated it as some kind of secret ritual that they almost always snuck off and did alone.

Doc almost always had someone go with him. He'd pretend to be hurt, or he'd fall out of his chair...and the moment someone came over to help lift him up...he'd have direct access to their throat, biting deep to drain as much as he could before they began to fight back. By the time they realized what was going on Doc had already drained too much for them to put up much resistance. He was an extremely fast drinker, and his arms would clutch onto their shoulders with an unbreakable vice like grip. They didn't stand a chance.

Dylan would have someone go with him, simply because he feared the confrontation. He was too much of a pushover to really intimidate his donors into position to be fed upon, but once the thirst took hold of him...Dylan was just as much of a savage as the rest of us. And Kid? Well Max would have to take Kid out on a regular basis and pretty much force him to feed when it was time. He'd never tell us when he was getting hungry. And when he went for too long without eating...well, we'd have a repeat performance of what happened around Navy Pier a few months ago. That little boy...wow. Once he got hungry, he was VICIOUS! The hole those little teeth could bite out of human flesh was painful to look at. Keeping him under control would be impossible if we didn't keep charts on when he was supposed to hunt.

But Taryn...my sweet Taryn...this was a wholly different experience for me. And I watched with great interest...feeling some of my own dark shadows creeping up to the surface to watch the fireworks.

The man turned around and saw Taryn standing there. A young teenage boy, walking around in the darkened alleys of Chicago in the middle of the night. I'm sure the sight of it caught him temporarily off guard. "Boy? What are you doing out here?" He said, his heavy accent making it almost hard to understand. He was holding a large set of keys in his hand, standing outside of a large metal door. His thoughts were easy to scan. He was there to rip off his employer, sell stolen electronics on the black market. Not really a 'bad' man as much as he was an 'opportunist'. Either way...he was now spending his last remaining moments on Earth asking stupid questions. "Go home. No need for you to be out here. Where's your papa?" He asked, as Taryn smiled gently. It was the loosely hanging strands of his reddish brown hair that covered his crimson eyes. Keeping the hidden as his mental process became perversely corrupt with thoughts of murder. Taryn made it look so easy. Despite the regret he may feel later, he knew that he had to be soulless in order to get the job done. He had to be quick, he had to be quiet...the sooner it was over and done with, the better.

I could feel an ice cold sensation worm it's way through me as my emotions linked themselves to his...and Taryn made the final decision to slaughter him where he stood. He used his senses to scan the man's blood for any dangerous infections or toxins that might be harmful to us. He had Doc's technique down to a science. And just as the man was about to tell him to get lost, he looked up...and saw me standing not more than twenty feet away. "What's going here? What do you think you're..."

But the man never got a chance to finish his broken English. Instead, the gentle lift of his chin, the slight turn of his head in my direction...that ONE moment of distraction where he forgot to be on guard concerning the mysterious boy in front of him...was all the opportunity my lover needed. With an animalistic hiss, Taryn's jaws opened wide, his fangs glimmering white...almost silver from the reflection of the moonlight above...Taryn grabbed a hold of both of the man's shoulders and lunged forward! It only took a fraction of a second for his piercing fangs to hit their mark, and the man was already beginning to go into shock by the time his body realized what was happening to him. Taryn bit DEEP...swiftly jumping up to wrap his arms around the man's neck and shoulders...his coltish legs wrapping around his waist. Taryn's reflexes were much too fast to be denied, and although he was slim and deceptively frail in stature...once he began to really 'drain' his victim of his precious fluids, there was no escape from his grasp. The man started to scream, spinning around with Taryn sticking to him like a second skin. The man pushed desperately back on Taryn's shoulders, but his fangs were lodged so deep in his neck that he couldn't get Taryn to let go. When he tried to pry his face away...Taryn's hungry 'daggers' stretched out stringy pieces of torn skin and muscle from his neck. It was so painful for him to peel back the layers of flesh that he would let go, and Taryn would smash his face back into the side of his neck all over again. It caused the poor bastard more suffering to struggle than it did to simply submit....and let his life fade away into the ether.

He spoke in his native tongue, tears running down his face, his fingers clutching and clawing at Taryn's backside hard enough to tear his shirt. But he was locked into a death grip that refused to let go. Taryn's powerful legs squeezed around the man's waist, forcing the air out of his lungs like the trappings of a jungle python. The man fell forward, laying on top of Taryn's delicate frame as the younger boy clung ferociously to his meal. From a distance...it almost looked as if the two were embraced in the act of desperate lovemaking. The way Taryn constricted around his prey...something about it made me miss his naked embrace. Many a night I had enjoyed those same boyish legs wrapped around my waist, his lips pressed against my neck, chest to chest...grinding in a union that was just as passionate...and provided us both with the same level of sweet gratification.

I heard the man gasping again, hollering out with rapidly fading breath, reaching with fingers that could touch nothing more than the cold stale air around him. He rolled over, and then fell back against the metal door, as Taryn worked to finish his meal. The man's heart pumped furiously...working itself into a frenzy, trying to get the blood flow out to the rest of his body. But Taryn intercepted nearly every drop, the scalding hot liquid of life spilling thick from the corners of his sucking lips. And that's when something hit me.

As my extra worked to decipher the man's foreign babblings...I wondered who would come to a warehouse in the middle of the night to rob it by himself. I noticed the presence of a van around a nearby corner...and when his words became clearer...I realized...

He was calling for 'help'.

I don't think Taryn was even aware of the presence of two more men in the back of that van, no doubt waiting for their friend to open the door for them to help him load the stuff up and go. Likewise, I don't think the other two men were aware of the fact that their companion was having his very essence drained from him convulsing body at that very moment. Not until now, that is.

By the time my mind had processed it all, one of the two men had jumped down from the back of the van, and hurried towards him with a sharp object in his hand. Taryn was so lost in his thirst that he didn't even see him coming, and the man charged forward...switchblade in hand.

My body took no time at all to react. It took no thought at all. No hesitation. With just a small series of quick movements, I eliminated the distance between me and him...appearing in front of the man as a swift gust of wind and litter followed behind me. My fangs had already dropped. My eyes had already turned. And in a blur, I grabbed a hold of the man's wrist, and turned it counterclockwise until it broke open, shards of bone poking through the skin. The man's brain attempted to calculate the damage done to him...but by the time he even began to feel the pain, my impulses were already telling me to do what needed to be done to protect the boy I love. I didn't have time to rationalize. The deed itself was automatic.

My hand grabbed a hold of the man's face, and with the same speed that I used to stop him from attacking my boyfriend...I swung him around...bashing the back of his head against a brick wall! Feeling it split open like a ripe melon, spatters of blood peppering my face as the gore of it decorated the wall in a giant red splash. The man flat lined instantly, and I held on to his face, a demonic snarl on my face, until his spasming muscles went into a series of full blown seizures.

"Oh my God!!!" Came a shout from behind me. The other man got out of the van, his eyes wide with horror. "JESUS!!!"

Taryn snapped his head back, so utterly SHOCKED by what I had done. He tore his fangs from his donor, and quickly rose to his feet...looking at the twitching body as it slid to the ground, it's busted head slumped over to the side. "Justin....what did you do?"

But my focus was on the other man by the van. The cold instincts of a protector had taken over. And I found myself a mere spectator in the actions taking place around me. This was my Taryn. Did they understand that? He's MINE! I'm not going to let them take him away from me! I'm not going to let them take what's mine!

The man fumbled around with something on his belt, and I saw him pull out a gun. Terrified at the sight of his two comrades lying dead on the alley concrete...and Taryn's mouth and chin covered with blood...he panicked. He pointed the gun at Taryn, and with a horrified curse, he pulled the trigger!

The sound of it was more like a 'pop' than anything else. Not what you usually hear in the movies. And even with hysteria flowing through him, he probably could have easily hit Taryn right between the eyebrows with that shot.

However...the bullet didn't make it that far.

I didn't have to think. I didn't even have to LOOK! The moment he pulled that trigger, my hand shot out from my side, reached out, and caught the bullet in the palm of my hand!

I left my arm outstretched, my fist shaking slightly as a slight trickle of blood dripped from my hand to the ground. And my eyes stared at him with a fury that he had never seen before. He wanted to hurt him. He wanted to hurt my angel. I tightened my fist, feeing the burn of the bullet as the heated metal cooled in my grip. Taryn's eyes were wide as saucers, staring at the back of my hand in front of his face...paralyzed by the awe of what I had done. I had a few quick visions of being back in Soren's warehouse...pounding Natpea unrecognizable...over and over again. And felt some of his energies flow through me. What do you know? The son of a bitch really could have been faster than a bullet...if he was as powerful as *I* was.

The ego took a hold of me, and the anger returned. Not just from this offense...this insult...but from years of repressed suffering. Years of abuse. I had to grit my teeth hard to hold my emotions back. When I finally opened my hand and dropped that bullet to the concrete...the man in front of us was almost too scared to breathe. His knees fell weak, his heart pounded in his chest, and tears welled up in his eyes as he came face to face with a creature from far beyond the world he knew existed. A nightmare. A boogie man. A dark fairy tale that had somehow manifested itself outside of God's watchful eye. He tried to keep from getting sick, his stomach heaving with terror. And I slowly stepped in front of my boyfriend to...continue 'taking care' of the problem.

"Justy...?" Taryn whimpered softly, frightened of what was going to happen next.

I fought tooth and nail to keep my composure...but felt myself slowly stepping forward anyway. Relax, Justin. Pull it back. Hold it in. Suppress the rage and THINK!!! Think about what you're doing!

The man whispered a small desperate prayer to himself, and quickly moved to raise the gun again. But I was able to mentally freeze his muscles in place before his hand even left his side. The man cried, his face contorting in the most agonizing ways as I increased the strength of his contracting body. I looked at the gun in his hand...and rapidly raised the temperature of the metal until it began to burn the flesh right off of his palm. He tried to drop it, but I refused to loosen his muscles enough to allow him to let it go. He wanted the gun so bad...let him hold it. I stared into his hysterical eyes...still increasing my power over him, still tightening the muscles of his body until they were ready to snap! He tried to scream in pain, but his jaw was locked shut, his throat constricted until he could only make high pitched squeals of agony. The veins in his neck strained, the muscles in his arms flattened themselves out from the tension. Just the slightest suggestion from my mind...and he was all but ready to break his own back from the way his body twisted.

"Justin...Justin stop!"

"Finish your meal." I said.

"JUSTIN!" The sound of his whine was so...urgent. So helpless. When I turned my head to see the despair in his eyes, I found the extra strength needed to restrict myself. If only for a little while. "Please? Let him go. He doesn't have to die like this." He pleaded.

There was a darker part of me that wanted to continue with his torture, but I was swift to agree. There was no need for more bloodshed. I saw smoke rising from his blackened palm, the gun handle almost turning red...and I released his arm muscles so he could let it go. And then...with a simple look in his eye, I took a hold of his mind...and I simply shut it down. I pulled the blood flow away from it, cut off its supply of oxygen, and rendered him unconscious as he fell to the ground in a heap. "He'll be ok. I promise." I told him...but, funny thing...it almost seemed as though Taryn didn't want to believe me. As if he didn't trust me as much as he once did. It had only been a few months, but darkness has a way of eating up so much of your true self. It seems like an eternity had passed since we shared that first kiss on the LaSalle street bridge.

Backing away from me slightly, keeping his eyes glued to me the whole way...Taryn gently crouched down beside his bleeding donor, and sank back into his neck to retrieve the last few remaining reserves of blood. Or to at least fill up on what he had left. I stood watch, just in case anyone else came by to interfere in what was going on. The thought did cross my mind that it was strange how little seeing Taryn feed disturbed me. In fact, even with blood staining his soft porcelain cheeks and thin ruby lips...I couldn't help but find an unnatural beauty about him. A delicate nature, so fragile in its presentation. There were times when he looked like he would simply 'break' if you handled him too roughly. Crumble to pieces in your hands if you held onto him too tightly. But something about that tenderness, that vulnerability, made him soooo angelic to me. To be able to look upon him and try to capture his heart was like gently catching a butterfly in flight...trying so hard not to damage its brittle wings. How strange...that he was gorgeous enough to even forgive the act of murder itself, here in this dark alley.

I could hear the depleted blood supply giving way to small suctions of air as Taryn reached the end of his late night snack. It reminded me of the sound a straw makes when reaching the bottom of a thick milkshake. Weird picture that put into my mind. And then...my senses suddenly put their defenses up.

It was subtle at first. Hardly noticeable at all. But the feeling got stronger. I raised my head, looking up and down the alley around me...and seeing nothing. I checked the rooftops, just in case. Still...nothing. I couldn't hear any breathing, detect a heartbeat, or sense any foreign presences in the immediate area around us. But...something was definitely 'reaching out' to me. Something was seeking me out. And my little display here in this alley had somehow tipped them off.

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