least he had the decency in all of his violence to make it quick. Zac had thrown down his rifle and simply walked away, not bothering to compel anyone. He'd been branded a deserter, an enemy of the United States, but he didn't give one fucking shit. War was terrible and brutal, and finally he'd realized he had to search for something else. It would be a long time being immortal if he didn't.
Obviously, he was still running around in circles beating his head against an impenetrable brick wall. He'd given his life to Aya, tried to become something better, but she had thrown it back at him. Even she didn't want him. Was he too far gone to ever come back?
"Zachary." Regulus' haughty voice interrupted his trip down memory lane.
He knew that he had to follow Regulus' orders down to the letter if he wanted to continue living. What he was living for, he wasn't entirely sure yet. He just knew that he didn't want to die any time in the near future.
"Hungry?" The Roman grinned at his new protégé.
Zac glanced disinterested down the lane that Regulus had inched him towards. A woman was walking down the cobbled stretch between the lightened populated roads, her stiletto heels tapping as she went. She was coming straight at them , he could smell her . Regulus was almost frothing at the mouth, but he elbowed him in her direction.
"Show me," he sneered.
The cold snap had brought down a heavy mist that hung about them, shadowing their forms into the night. The woman, however, was like a beacon in the darkness, her breath vaporizing about her as she walked towards them, oblivious. Regulus wanted him to feed on her, but not just that. He wanted him to hunt her for his own sport.
Taking a deep breath, Zac felt the air shift as Regulus disappeared. He felt the Roman's eyes on him, which meant he hadn't gone far. The tap of the woman's heels grew louder as she neared and he couldn't help but turn and watch her approach. He'd played this game many times before. It was one of Victoria's favorites and it had soon become one of his as well in the early days.
As the woman rounded the corner, he stepped into her, as if he was hurrying the other way, their shoulders colliding. He saw her fall and reached out a hand to steady her, but deliberately missed.
The moment her knees scraped on the footpath, Zac smelt the blood. He was suddenly very hungry.
"Are you okay?" he heard himself saying. Before he understood what he was doing, the predator took over. Reaching out, he grasped the woman's arm, helping her to stand, one of her shoes coming loose. Blonde hair tumbled around her shoulders and her red woolen scarf had fallen off. He bent down to pick it up, catching the scent of her blood on the crisp air.
"Shit," she cursed, hissing as she surveyed the scrapes that now adorned each knee. "Thank you."
"My pleasure," he smiled lopsidedly at her, handing her back her scarf. She was quite pretty, but she hadn't bothered to look at him yet. "Sorry, I ran into you and all."
"Oh, that's okay. Shit happens I guess," she waved a hand, barely looking at him. Her accent was thick and he had trouble making out some of the words. She jumped on one heel for a moment, pulling her dislodged shoe back on.
"Where are you going? Do you need a hand?" he asked, letting concern flood into his voice.
"Oh," she said, looking down the high street, then back to him, their eyes meeting for the first time. "I'm going to the pub down there a ways." She waived off into the distance vaguely, seemingly more interested in him, once she'd had gotten an eyeful.
"May I walk you?" he smiled again and gestured to her scraped knees. "Just in case."
"Sure."
They walked in silence for a block before she asked, "What's your name? I'm Cassy."
He let a smile play at his lips before saying, "I'm Zac."
"Nice to meet you."
"And you." He let his arm brush against hers, pretending not to notice.
"Where are you from? Are you American?"
"Yes, I'm American," he said.
Obviously, he was still running around in circles beating his head against an impenetrable brick wall. He'd given his life to Aya, tried to become something better, but she had thrown it back at him. Even she didn't want him. Was he too far gone to ever come back?
"Zachary." Regulus' haughty voice interrupted his trip down memory lane.
He knew that he had to follow Regulus' orders down to the letter if he wanted to continue living. What he was living for, he wasn't entirely sure yet. He just knew that he didn't want to die any time in the near future.
"Hungry?" The Roman grinned at his new protégé.
Zac glanced disinterested down the lane that Regulus had inched him towards. A woman was walking down the cobbled stretch between the lightened populated roads, her stiletto heels tapping as she went. She was coming straight at them , he could smell her . Regulus was almost frothing at the mouth, but he elbowed him in her direction.
"Show me," he sneered.
The cold snap had brought down a heavy mist that hung about them, shadowing their forms into the night. The woman, however, was like a beacon in the darkness, her breath vaporizing about her as she walked towards them, oblivious. Regulus wanted him to feed on her, but not just that. He wanted him to hunt her for his own sport.
Taking a deep breath, Zac felt the air shift as Regulus disappeared. He felt the Roman's eyes on him, which meant he hadn't gone far. The tap of the woman's heels grew louder as she neared and he couldn't help but turn and watch her approach. He'd played this game many times before. It was one of Victoria's favorites and it had soon become one of his as well in the early days.
As the woman rounded the corner, he stepped into her, as if he was hurrying the other way, their shoulders colliding. He saw her fall and reached out a hand to steady her, but deliberately missed.
The moment her knees scraped on the footpath, Zac smelt the blood. He was suddenly very hungry.
"Are you okay?" he heard himself saying. Before he understood what he was doing, the predator took over. Reaching out, he grasped the woman's arm, helping her to stand, one of her shoes coming loose. Blonde hair tumbled around her shoulders and her red woolen scarf had fallen off. He bent down to pick it up, catching the scent of her blood on the crisp air.
"Shit," she cursed, hissing as she surveyed the scrapes that now adorned each knee. "Thank you."
"My pleasure," he smiled lopsidedly at her, handing her back her scarf. She was quite pretty, but she hadn't bothered to look at him yet. "Sorry, I ran into you and all."
"Oh, that's okay. Shit happens I guess," she waved a hand, barely looking at him. Her accent was thick and he had trouble making out some of the words. She jumped on one heel for a moment, pulling her dislodged shoe back on.
"Where are you going? Do you need a hand?" he asked, letting concern flood into his voice.
"Oh," she said, looking down the high street, then back to him, their eyes meeting for the first time. "I'm going to the pub down there a ways." She waived off into the distance vaguely, seemingly more interested in him, once she'd had gotten an eyeful.
"May I walk you?" he smiled again and gestured to her scraped knees. "Just in case."
"Sure."
They walked in silence for a block before she asked, "What's your name? I'm Cassy."
He let a smile play at his lips before saying, "I'm Zac."
"Nice to meet you."
"And you." He let his arm brush against hers, pretending not to notice.
"Where are you from? Are you American?"
"Yes, I'm American," he said.
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