It was a simple thing that started it all. She had been behind the bar all night and was getting tired. The glass dropped and she cut her finger. As she stood and stared at that small drop of blood, she felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck, as if she was being watched. She turned to look into the darkest eyes she had ever seen. He wasn't close, he was against the wall opposite the bar, but she knew he was looking at her, as a wolf looks at his prey. She absentmindedly licked the blood from her finger and she thought that his breathing quickened as she did it.
The next two hours before last call were crazy, she couldn't stop for anything, but every time she lifted her head from the bar for a moment, he was there. She felt his eyes mark every move she made. When they finally herded out the last of the drunks, she saw him standing in the shadows across the street. She knew her eyes were playing tricks on her, but she would swear that his eyes glowed like a cat's. She was a little nervous at the thought of walking home, but at the same time she felt like she had to go. There was a feelng in her soul, that she had to accept that she was the chosen prey. Those eyes seemed to take away her willpower, even though she had not spoken a word to him. She didn't know for sure that he would be out there, but her heart was telling her that he would be, that he would wait for her for as long as it took.
She turned the key in the lock and headed towards home. In moments there was a voice behind her.
"I hope your cut is better." The sound of his voice made it hard for her to breathe.
"I...I'm fine."
"May I walk you home? You shouldn't be alone this late." Somehow she thought that being with him wouldn't be any safer.