He first spotted her strolling down the flea market's back end, across the way from the vendor who sold pony rides to kids. He only had human food to eat when working his security shift, and the ponies were more to his liking. He'd sit and fantasize about chasing one down with his pack, tackling it, ripping the throat open, tearing away its flesh and lapping up the blood that pulsed out from the jugular.
But he had other needs, things he had almost forgotten about while laying low among the human world. He looked her up and down. Tall, pale, with long dark hair. Cute ripped shorts and a cute ass to boot. She laughed at something on her phone, her small breasts bouncing just so slightly.
It wasn't just her looks though. He liked the way she carried herself. Whenever he saw her walking by one of his posts, she acted aloof, yet amused by the shouting vendors, giggling kids, and stumbling drunks. He could relate.
He took a death breath, and began to walk over to her. She looked over at him and smiled, taking her sunglasses off and winking. He exhaled in relief- she had been ogling him back.
"Hey!" He said, giving his name and shaking her hand. She introduced herself, and they chatted. Every time she smiled, his stomach fluttered.
"So I was thinking... Do you want to get dinner sometime? On me?"
She giggled- it was so cute, he could die.
"How about chess at my place?"
It took him a moment to understand what she meant.
"Chess?"
"Yes!"
There was an awkward pause. She bobbed her head left to right. She seemed nervous.
He stopped and thought to himself- She doesn't really mean chess!
"Oh! I!... Yeah, your place."
She must have a twisted sense of humor. Or maybe she felt a bit embarrassed? He figured it was something like that.
It turned out that her place wasn't far from the trailer park he lived in. Driving over in his shitty old pickup, he coached himself. He was trying to get lucky when he walked up to her, but he didn't think he was going to get this lucky. Straight to the point. His kind of girl.
He needed to be careful though. His pack had sent him out to learn about human life. He couldn't expose himself, which meant that even when sewing his wild oats, he needed to restrain himself. Don't give entirely to your lust, or you'll transform. Don't lose control, or else you'll become bonded. Bonds with humans were acceptable, even fairly common. Your mate had to know you deeply, and they needed to respect lycans' need for secrecy... And be prepared to raise a litter of pups with you. You don't want to bond with a booty call.
He went over the rules in his head as he turned into the gravel driveway. A fox ran across the path, running into the dusk-tinged forest that surrounded the small yellow house.
She seemed nervous. She let him in, asking if he wanted tea: "Hibiscus or raspberry?" They talked, she showed him to the kitchen. It was a small yellow room. The appliances seemed ancient. When he turned to the table, he tried to hide his amused surprise.
"White or black?" She said, singing the words.
They sat down and began playing. She was good. Meanwhile, he couldn't remember the last time he played. But, he was clever enough to obstruct her, drag the game out. She wasn't relaxing though. She clearly loved the game, shouldn't she be enjoying it? Maybe she was nervous about later. It didn't seem to match up with his first impression of her. However, living among the humans, he had learned that individuals can be very strange.
He was getting close to losing, and getting bored. He ended his turn, looked her in her eyes. She froze, staring blankly. Then she forced a smile. Then, she forced a lascivious smile. She crossed her arms, placed each palm on the opposite knee. Her wide brown eyes were so, so big.
He leaned in. She let our a purr "mmmmm!".
Suddenly there was a crack -- a snapping sound. By the time her faced was past his eyes, her fangs had unsheathed, visible at the furthest corner of his eye for only a moment. Her arms wrapped around his torso, and she sank her teeth into his neck.
His first flash of thought was between horrified realization and shame. Werewolves know how to identify a vampire. How the hell did you miss it? Then, he began to struggle against her, trying to bash her head in, slash her, throw her off of him. But she was strong too, and able to keep him locked in place. Suddenly, he began to transform. His muscles grew, fur blossomed, teeth extended, but he was losing blood fast. Just as he gained his post-transformation composure, his body surrendered. His last thought before passing out was that he, underneath his fight to survive, was feeling lust. His member had hardened. He still wanted her, even after she had revealed what she was. Disgusting!
When he awoke, it was pitch black. He could feel a breeze. He was in another room. It was dark, but he could feel moonlight. Looking up, he could see it was a bedroom, and he was lying on the floor.
