Bullets from automatic gunfire ricocheted on my left as a silver-tipped crossbow bolt whooshed by me, clattering against the brick building to my right. If one has been around for a few years, they’ll encounter their fair share of haters; it was just that my particular breed of haters tends to wield stakes and holy water. There were at least six in pursuit, all on motorcycles, all brandishing weaponry, all of them hunting me with a vengeance. They were well-funded, competent, and out for blood. I should have been warier. The signs were there; I just chose to ignore them.

My morning meeting had been the final clue, the first being my late-night stalker in the red-light district on the previous evening. The client wasn’t looking for a noted historian to authenticate a centuries-old relic; he was looking to hunt a vampire. As soon as he plopped down a silver-chased, antique stake, the Holy See emblem emblazoned on the handle, myriad details clicked into place and raised a big, blood-red flag.

My intuition had served me well. I knew that he was more than likely a hunter, but my complacency and hubris had gotten the better of me. How he knew or even suspected what I truly am was beyond me. In my long life, every hunter had either been a religious zealot on some holy crusade or a maladjusted malcontent that had seen one too many movies. The thought that there was an organized, well-trained group of hunters, working in concert, had never occurred to me.

I ended the morning meeting with a feeling of foreboding trepidation, spending the rest of the day in nervous paranoia, looking over my shoulder. The hunters attacked at night, in an organized, strategic manner. Two of them harried me at all times, negating the advantage of my superior speed and reflexes by riding black, Enduro motorcycles. They wore black body armor and helmets, firing automatic machine guns and shooting crossbows from a distance, nullifying my superior strength and lethality. At least four others circled around me, boxing me in, herding me toward their final trap.

They had to have spotters, as well. No matter which way I fled, as soon as I’d lose the two chasing me, two more would ride in and renew the pursuit. I dodged gunfire and medieval missiles as I fled, wondering why the police chose that particular evening to not make an appearance.

If I hadn’t been running for my life, I’d have been impressed. Flinging a convenient dumpster into the path of an oncoming motorcycle, I laughed as the rider slammed into it, full-throttle. His motorcycle, the engine revving, flew in one direction, the rider in another. He slammed, head-first, into the wall of a building, hitting it with a satisfying crunch. I ducked down an alley, the dumpster momentarily blockading my pursuers.

A barred window was a few feet ahead, spawning a plan to counter their strategy. I yanked twice, freeing the metal grate, and shattered the window. Intentionally tearing a strip from the hem of my deep scarlet, velvet dress, I wedged it onto a pointy shard of glass still in the window frame. A drop or two of my enhanced blood smeared on the sill made for a great decoy as I shimmied up the ancient, iron drain pipe and gained the roof.

Three stories above humanity, the moon shining down on me, I closed my eyes and listened. My keen senses allowed me to hear the telltale sounds I sought, and much more. The wrecked rider was, thankfully, intact, although he wouldn’t be staking any more vampires in the immediate future. Three other cycles could be heard revving in the distance, their unique, high-pitched rumblings sounding like a search pattern. I heard two other cycles shutting down as the riders dismounted and entered the alley, searching for me. The clinking of glass being cleared came to my ears as they entered the building beneath me, following the scent of my blood-red herring. I listened, through the din of the night’s sounds, until the Doppler effect of the other motorcycles’ engines told me that the remaining riders were headed away.

Some distance away, on the outskirts of the warehouse district, I saw flashing, pulsating lights and heard faint industrial dance music. Another plan formed in my mind. I needed a covert escape; whatever party was happening over there would suffice.

Cloaked by midnight, leaping across alleys from one roof to the next, I stealthily removed myself from the hunters’ proximity. I was slightly dirty, my dress torn and soiled a bit, but still looking sexy and demure. I was, however, exhausted. Contrary to popular belief, my kind does tire. My exertion had sapped my strength, drained my energy. I’d need to feed soon, lest my body shut down.

Hugging the shadows, staying away from any prying eyes, around or above me, I neared the source of the lights and music; a Rave was going on, utilizing an empty warehouse. It was the perfect hunting ground, as well as the perfect place to enact my escape plan.

With my dress smoothed, my face and exposed flesh wiped clean, and my sensual aura once more emanating from my body, I approached the throngs of people milling about. Several open, overhead doors, showed the chaotic frenzy going on inside. Flashing lights, lasers, and strobes filled the building, a crowded, writhing sea of bodies gyrating to the Electronic Dance Music inside. Drinks were in hand, dilated pupils were everywhere, and all were dressed flamboyantly, showing more skin than clothing.

Outside, where it wasn’t as intensely loud, a large group of people milled about. Some of them were dancing, some chatting, some just partying. It was my kind of place. I was no longer the slayers' prey. The prey had become the predator, once more. I walked slowly, sexily, my hips swinging with every step, my breasts bouncing in invitation. All eyes turned towards me, the wake of my sexuality affecting them. I saw my lucky victim near one of the entrances. She would do nicely.

She was quite young, maybe twenty-two or so years old. Roughly my height, of a body type similar to my own, although her breasts were a bit smaller and perkier, and dressed to thrill in a matching luminescent, shimmery halter top and mini skirt, complete with a glossy, tinsel wig. She was obviously very intoxicated; her wide, blue eyes sparkled with the flashing lights, her pupils as big as saucers. Although her attention seemed to be on the three young men in front of her, as they attempted to entice her to dance with them, in the hopes of getting more than just a dance, it was almost no effort to lure her into my proximity.

Walking around her so that I was within her field of view, I stopped, primped myself a bit, jutting out my tits and letting my leg show through the slit in my dress. She immediately stopped talking and stared at me, enthralled. Staring into her eyes, all my passion and horny lust behind my gaze, I smiled at her. With a slight incline of my head, my eyes locking hers to me, a simple gnawing on my lower lip, as my eyes looked her over, was all it took. She immediately ignored her would-be suitors and approached, displaying open body language, her nipples hardening as she drew near.

“I, uh,” she stuttered a bit as she felt my horny aura of sexuality. “I love your dress. So sexy.” Her voice was youthful, exuberant, full of enthusiasm, and dripping with lusty undertones, enhanced by her chemically-altered euphoria.

She reached out to touch my dress, her hand caressing the velvety material, her fingers groping at my breast, nude beneath the single layer of fabric. I placed my hand over hers and slowly guided her hand down my torso, looking deeply into her eyes.

“Is it just the dress you like, or do you want more? I’d love to dance with you, feast on your flesh, and bring you to ecstatic rapture.” I spoke soothingly, slowly, drawing my vowels out, hypnotizing her with my sensual allure.

As I spoke to her, mesmerizing her with my lusty energy, I wet my lips with my tongue, moving her hand down to the slit in my dress. She gasped in response, her eyes languid, her lower lip quivering with desire.

“If you like the feel of velvet, I’m velvety soft, warm, and inviting,” I cooed to her.

Her flesh was burning hot against my arousal. Her fingers deftly stroked my inner folds, a look of uncontrolled desire on her face. I pulled her into my body, feeling her heat, smelling her cheap perfume mixed with the alcohol on her breath.

I whispered into her ear, my voice dripping with lust. “I love your dress, too. Why don’t we trade clothes; wouldn’t that be fun? We can dance together, and I promise you that I’ll feast upon you, later. I guarantee that it will be the most amazing sensation you’ve ever felt in your life.”

“Trade?” she asked. Her voice attempted to sound uncertain, but it was obvious that she was consumed by lust. The lilt in her husky voice demonstrated carnal passion beyond her feeble words. The undulating of her stomach, as her breath came in orgasmic gasps, made her arousal obvious.

“Yes, not only will it be so much fun, but I’ll get to see what I’m having for dinner.”

“But…” she paused, her face growing slightly red as a mischievous smile crossed her lips. “These people. They’ll see.” Her nipples, growing harder, pushing against the shiny, reflective fabric, confessed to the fact that stripping in public aroused her.

Smiling seductively, I turned her around, pressing my dripping crotch against her shapely ass. My arms wrapped around her, holding her close to me, her breathing growing heated. I ran my hands all over her body, exploring her upper thighs, roaming over her pert breasts, stroking her cheeks, and moistening my fingers on her sighing lips. Others took note and watched, stared, elbowed each other, and pointed. Nobody approached or interfered.

“Let them look,” I whispered, tonguing her ear and kissing the nape of her neck. “You know that those boys you were talking to just wanted to fuck you.”

When I breathed out the word, “fuck,” my hand clenched at her pussy. To my hands, it felt like grabbing fire. She moaned aloud at that, pressing her body into me. Her hips humped, involuntarily, as her passion overwhelmed her. I delighted at the feeling of her hard, round ass humping against my clit.

“Let them see what they cannot have. You know it turns you on knowing that they all want to taste you, but I’ll be the one eating you, tonight. You’re so scrumptious, I might not be able to control myself, and I’ll have to eat you on the dance floor, really sink my teeth into your hot, smooth flesh.”

At that, I grabbed her, firmly but gently, around the neck, my other hand traveling down her back, under her skirt, quickly invading her soaked pussy for a moment. As soon as her body surrendered to me, I broke our embrace and pushed her aside, my face alight with horny passion and mirth.

“Now strip for me. I’ve wanted to get into your dress since I first saw you.”

She eagerly stripped, no longer concerned with the people milling about. Nearly all of them were now fixated on the two sexy women stripping in front of them. For her pleasure more than that of the onlookers, I fondled and caressed her nearly-nude body. She wore a shimmery g-string, a dark, wet spot near the gusset.

I stripped, removing my only article of clothing, and handed it to her, proudly smiling. She was mine, now. We both knew it. She pulled my deep scarlet gown over her head, looking divine in my clothing. I shimmied into the miniskirt, thankful that the Velcro waist allowed me to adjust it to fit. Her body was close to mine, but not exact.

Her shiny, reflective crop top was another matter. My always-hard nipples, made even more prominent from our recent playing, threatened to poke through the material, my heaving breasts showing their bottom swells. It mattered little to me; breasts and bared behinds were everywhere. I twisted my hair into a bun of sorts and donned the luminescent wig.

My newfound friend was panting in heat, her hands roaming over both her and my bodies. I kissed her deeply, slowly, filling her with my inner desire and passion. Her lust bubbled forth in the form of small moans and whimpers into my mouth.

“Come, my child, let’s dance and take delight in exploring each other.”

I put my arm around her, kneading the firm, hot flesh of her ass, and led her inside. My timing was impeccable. As soon as we crossed the threshold, I heard the sound of approaching motorcycles. I suppressed a snicker. They’d be looking for a redhead in a scarlet dress, not a stoned, pale vixen wearing space-age, shimmering, rave clothing. I was now completely disguised.

Most people, when they attempt to hide in the crowd, end up looking and acting furtively. You see it in the movies, and most people, in real life, don’t have the mettle of steel to truly blend in. Rather than act exactly like everyone else in the area, they look around with dodgy eyes, trying to catch sight of their hunters. They neither behave like those around them nor blend in. I did not succumb to such folly.

Throwing myself fully into the role of being just another stoned, horny raver, I pulled my companion onto the dance floor and let my immortal passion run wild and free. She was a great dancer, allowing herself to feel the music, to surrender to it. Our lips touched; our hands roamed. To any onlookers, I was just one of the crowd. I espied two of the black-armored hunters near the entrance but ignored them.

As we ground our pussies together, me mesmerizing her with my seductive wiles, drawing her more and more deeply into my horny web, our hands roamed over each other’s flesh. Mine was smooth and silky, hers burning hot. As her breasts were freed, I knelt in front of her, my hands parting the dress at the slit.

“I’m going to taste your life’s essence, now,” I told her.

She nodded to me, shrieking in passion, totally lost in the moment. I quickly tore her panties off her, casting them aside, and thrust my mouth and tongue over her dripping cunt. Her juice was steaming hot, tasted like ambrosia, and was pouring from her tunnel into my mouth.

“Yes, eat me!” She began chanting, abandoning all sense of modesty.

My partner had forgotten all about dancing, placing her hands on my wig-covered head, humping my mouth with abandon. Most danced around us; only a few stopped their inebriated and stoned gyrating to openly gawk. I licked up and down her slit, only pausing when one of her hands left my head.

“Please,” she begged me, her freed hand tugging violently on her exposed nipples. “Please let me cum. I’ve never felt like this.”

I smiled, spread my legs, and lubricated my hand with my magical nectar. I regained my feet, slowly licking my way up her body as she writhed on the cusp of orgasm. Plunging my dripping fingers into her mouth, I saw her entire body shudder in ecstasy and felt her body catch fire, heatedly glowing under the lights.

“Aaah, Mmm,” she screamed, “so good.” She hungrily licked every drop from my cold fingers, sucking on them.

She pulled in close, straddling my leg, and kissed me hard, deep, and passionately. Her dripping cunt was humping my thigh as we moved in unison to the bass-heavy dance music. Our hands violently assaulted each other’s body as she humped herself close to a climax once more.

I broke off our torrid kiss, strings of saliva bridging the short distance between our lips. “I’m going to make you cum, now, like you never have before. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” she breathed out.

“Beg me.”

“Please make me cum. Please.”

I reached between her legs and began circling her clit with my fingers, my movements becoming a blur. In response, her legs buckled, and her hips pumped back and forth with abandon.

“Submit yourself to my every whim, my every desire. Swear to obey my every command, and I’ll give you an orgasm that you'll feel in your very soul.”

“Yes, please,” she shouted to me. “I’m yours! I’ll do anything, anything at all. Please, just make me cum.”

“I’m going to make you cum, now,” I told her. “When I do, I’m going to bite your hot, soaked thigh and drink your blood. You’ll have the most amazing orgasm of your life. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” she begged. “Please. Bite me, drink me, just please do it now.”

This time, I squatted instead of kneeling. My pussy was on display, dripping in my arousal, but furthering my "horny raver" disguise. With one hand on her firm ass cheek, holding her throbbing pussy tight against my hand, I flicked her clit to the beat of the music, adding speed and pressure. Gently nibbling, kissing, and sucking on her soaked thigh, I was pleased that she forced her flesh against my fanged teeth harder and harder. She wanted me to bite her; I needed to.

My sensitive lips could feel her pulse throbbing just beneath her creamy flesh. As the first spasms of her orgasm racked her body, I bit into her deeply but gently. Her life’s fluids filled my mouth, restoring my strength, energy, and stamina. I drank deeply, every suck from my mouth sending her skyrocketing into another cresting orgasm.

The throes of her lust-filled release were incredible. She tilted her head back, towards the ceiling, her eyes rolled back in their sockets, her mouth agape, screaming incoherent, guttural cries of pleasure. I let her ride the constant waves of multiple orgasms until I had drunk just enough to energize my failing body. Her legs grew too weak to hold her up; luckily, I was strong enough to hold her in place while I feasted upon her and gave her the best orgasms she’d ever know.

When I finished, I kissed my way back up her torso, biting my lip just enough to leak a few tiny drops of my blood. I kissed her once more; as soon as she tasted my enhanced blood, the effects consumed her. She growled a primal howl into my mouth as our tongues explored each other’s mouths. Her entire body shook as her breathing became deep and steady. Seconds later, her hands were tearing my dress off of her body.

“I need fucked,” she screamed to the bystanders. “How wants to fuck my cunt? Fill me up, fucking take me.”

I left her like that, on her back in the middle of the dance floor. She had a cock in her mouth, her hands on random pussies, while being suckled and fucked by others. I exited the rave, walking past one of the hunters. He was standing near the entrance, looking surly and out of place, his motorcycle helmet hanging from one hand.

“Nice cock,” I said, lustily, as I looked over my would-be killer’s package. “Want to sink that into my pussy?”

With a convincing bit of acting, I groped at him as if I were incredibly inebriated and outrageously horny. I groped at his cock, squeezed his ass, and moved in for a kiss.

He shook his head and pushed me away. “I’m waiting for somebody,” was all he said.

“I bet you are. You look like a real ladykiller.”

I exited, hailed a taxi, and told the driver to take a long way home. Not only did I want to ensure that I had thrown them all off my trail, but I also needed to think, plan, and ponder my next course of action. I was thankful that I hadn’t returned home since my morning meeting. I opened the wallet I had deftly lifted from the vampire hunter. If one knows where and how to look, there is a wealth of information there. I have had lots of time to learn such intelligence tactics, in addition to being an adept pick-pocket.

Thirty minutes into the ride, I formulated my best course of action. It wasn’t my preferred choice, but it seemed to be the best. This band of hunters was very well-organized, which meant that somebody rich and powerful was behind them. If they had their army, it would be best that I recruit some help.

My kind isn’t exactly what one would call a social species. We have no clubs, no Blood-suckers anonymous. We don’t hold ice cream socials or hang out in a clubhouse. In fact, over the years, I’d only met two others of my kind. It takes a special set of circumstances for one of us to live through the metabolic changes, and few humans are even candidates for the change. Less than three percent of humanity even has the proper blood type, and far fewer possess all the other traits. Of those very few, most cannot handle the mental duress of being one of my kind. However, I knew of a possible candidate for vampirism in this very city. If she still hung out at the underground, goth, vampire nightclub, I might be able to recruit a sidekick.