Caralee gracefully walked through the throngs of pedestrians, moving fluidly through the crowd as if she were gliding upon air. She was enigmatic and charming, positively captivating. The city nightlife hummed around her, vibrant and alive, yet oblivious to the predator who walked among them, cloaked in an aura of enigmatic charm.
Each step she took, each slight shift of her weight, was poetry in motion—a graceful dance only visible to the eyes of those who knew the truth of her nature. Merrick followed quietly behind, his footsteps a subtle echo of her own. He kept himself deliberately paced, close enough to ensure her safety yet distant enough to allow her to explore this newfound freedom, enough distance to spread her wings and soar. His eyes never left her form, watching intently as she navigated the crowd, sensing her curiosity and eagerness as vividly as if they were his own.
He hadn't meant for this to actually be her very first hunt. Merrick had envisioned her first hunt very differently— something carefully arranged, precise, and ceremonious. A memorable event marking her transformation. Given the proper attention to note the occasion. He merely wanted to satiate her thirst, and enable her to be free of the gnawing distraction.
His intention had actually been to hunt for her. And yet, watching her now, Merrick found himself captivated, unable to deny the thrill of witnessing Caralee's instinctive predatory grace.
Watching her filter through the herd, eyes narrowed and focused, like a hawk with a tasty rodent in its sights, she was a natural. He was so completely enamored by her beauty and natural talent, that he just couldn't stop it. Allowing things to naturally progress as they had.
The moment took him by surprise. The horror and panic in her eyes, trying to hide— her fangs. Trying to hide them from him no less. It made rage bubble up within him just thinking about it.
She was embarrassed. Mortified for herself to be seen with fangs. Yo be seen by me!
Yet here they were, her humility before him a painful contradiction. The very idea was laughable if it had not been so heartbreaking, so downright despicable. Thankfully her father was not alive to witness such a thing. Whoever would imagine, the supreme ruler of all Vampire kind, embarrassed of her own fangs, when they erupted from newborn thirst, before her betrothed, her sire, the Vampire King. It was absurd.
Caralee abruptly halted, her attention riveted across the bustling street, where theater goers poured out in cheerful clusters, laughing and exchanging enthusiastic critiques of the night's performance. Merrick paused alongside her, carefully noting her sudden stillness and the intensity of her gaze. His eyes followed hers, landing upon a vibrant group of young adults, whose laughter and carefree conversation drifted across the distance to reach them.
He gently placed his hand upon her back, tracing an affectionate path up to cradle the nape of her neck, his touch both reassuring and possessive. Leaning close, Merrick murmured softly into her ear, his voice rich and velvety, "So tell me Dear One. Which of these lot is so blessed, as to tempt a being of such divine grace?" He took her hand in his, bringing it up to his mouth as he spoke, practically whispering the last words as his lips brushed just barely against her skin before bestowing her with a gentle kiss there.
Caralee tilted her head slightly, the flush rising in her cheeks an intoxicating blend of youthful innocence and predatory allure. Her bashful smile captivated Merrick completely. It was an enchanting sight—this rare, delicate vulnerability contrasting so beautifully with the power he sensed burgeoning within her.
She met his eyes briefly, allowing him a momentary glimpse into her thoughts before decisively indicating her chosen prey. "Her," she whispered firmly, singling out a striking young woman.
Merrick's gaze shifted thoughtfully toward the girl. She was undeniably beautiful, radiating a natural charm and innocence. Long chestnut waves of hair cascaded gracefully down her slender back, her honey-colored eyes alight with innocent joy. Her companions, equally lively, animated their discussion with expansive gestures and boisterous laughter, suggesting they had indulged in the pleasure of both culture and spirits.
Caralee's eyes flicked back toward Merrick, watching him closely as he appraised her chosen target. There was an intensity to her gaze that intrigued him deeply—was it jealousy? A craving for approval, perhaps? Or maybe even a hint of possessiveness, a reluctance to share the visual pleasure of her selection?
Merrick resisted the urge to probe her mind directly, keenly aware of the intimate etiquette that governed their shared existence. The effort required to clearly perceive her thoughts without invitation was considerable, yet more importantly, respect demanded restraint.
Merrick had only used such tactics lately because of his need to know where Caralee's mind was during the turbulent time of her transition. He has also thought it may be prudent to listen in a bit closer than would be expected, due to the unfortunate mystery surrounding much of her life to this point. One never could be too careful.
Not to mention that to be honest, it was difficult. It took a good amount of focus, energy, and skill to read her as clearly as he could. It was only even really possible because of their connection, which was quite special.
"What do I do now?" Caralee questioned looking up at him with an eager look, slightly tempered by nerves. A mischievous smile danced across his lips and he wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning his head down to leave a soft kiss on her neck and then cheek. He nuzzled her neck one more, eliciting a tiny giggle before he whispered into her ear.
"Now, we get to introduce ourselves of course." He stood up and held out his hand for her to take. "Come now darling, it's time for us to make some new friends." Darkness fell over his expression as Merrick led her forward, their movements synchronized and smooth, like a couple effortlessly dancing through the night.