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PROLOGUE

1980

He stalked from the trees above. Watching her closely. He couldn't wait to sink his teeth into her. What would her blood taste like? If she did drugs it would be as sour as a lemon and if her blood was pure it would be as sweet as chocolate cake. That's how the stories went. They said once you get a drop of pure blood you can't get enough.

He waited, clenching his raw hands onto the branches. He had waited all night and was about to combust. His hunger was beginning to take control of him. The branches in his hands began to split, so he let go. His palm and fingers imprinted into them. He had held on with all of his strength. So much strength, that shards of the branches began to hit the ground with only a slight thunk. Not loud enough to be found out, but if he was, he still had the camouflage of night to help him.

If she had been alone he would have attacked sooner, but because of the girl standing by his prey, he had to wait. A wait that was torture to his kind. None the less, her companion would leave her soon enough and when she did, he would swoop down and take one taste, just enough to satisfy his hunger.

When her friend left and she was alone walking the night streets, he stood on his feet, crouched in tiger position, keeping his eyes on her. The best blood was the blood that came from a frightened girl. At least that's what his brother told him.

Now is the time. He thought. And just when she was getting ready to walk into her home, he swooped down and dug his teeth clean into her neck while she was in mid scream.

His eyes rolled back in extacy. She was the sweet kind. Her blood flowed from her neck, onto his tongue and down his throat. It was the feast of kings to the vampires and that's indeed how he was eating. Like a king. As young as he was, being new to the hunt and thirst, he had to remind himself to not her dry. Otherwise it would cause problems for him and his family. Problems that neither of them wanted.

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She had snuggled up into his chest before he had laid her gently onto her bed. Her warmth had stayed on his arms from him carrying her. She was kind enough to feed him, even if it was against her will, the best thing he could do was let her rest comfortably. Then come morning she won't have any recollection of what happened to her. The perks of being a Nightling. The power to be able to remove memories just by whispering did wonders. No one should have to remember something as horrible as getting fed on. Not even a vampire would want to remember how they were turned.

He pushed her hair slightly back, exposing her neck. The smooth white skin was tempting, but he couldn't. Last thing to do was get rid of the puncture wounds. He bent down, laying his lips slightly against her soft warm neck, fighting the urge to feed again and blew. With just one breath the two wholes disappeared as if they never existed. Any trace of him was completely gone. He made sure of that.