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Vega obliged the one that called himself Aaron and followed his lead, for now. Vega knew that he was the one that she would take, willingly or not. As Vega devised a plan Carmen dealt with the male that was bringing her to a back alley of the club. She made sure that her walk emphasized what she was seemingly offering, yet not be so abrasive about it, that it would frighten some away. Her right hand went behind her neck and lifted up her hair, as if she was getting a bit heated by being in the club. The neck was one of the most alluring parts of a female...and it showed vulnerability.

Carmen was secure when she dealt with males… she was not overtly aggressive at all. She had the ability, after dealing with so many different kinds of men, to be able to size up a male in an instant and figure out what their possible needs and desires would be. Carmen then, capitalized upon this knowledge.

She knew that any woman that could use their sexuality in the proper ways, would be deadly… in this sense literally. As Carmen headed out the back door, the smoky air that filled her lungs, as she exited caused a slight grimace to cross her face. The smell of smoke being exhaled from the lungs, was a scent that did not sit idly in Vega’s mind...it brought back too many memories.

Most men, back in Lil Havana, had been smokers...that addiction coupled with alcohol was the poison for most. Drugs were rampant through the community, but too costly for the minimum wage workers that visited Vega on the daily. The smell of tobacco on men was always different. Vega never understood how this could be, except for slight variances in the tobacco smoked..how could they each smell so different? Vega was naive….so very naive. Carmen knew that the way the tobacco smell lingered upon a man, mixed with their sweat and pheromones...were the reasons for the subtle differences in smells.

Carmen turned towards the male…” Could we walk down the alley a bit, the smoke is a bit too much for me?” She outstretched her hand, waiting to see if he took her bait...

Almost instinctively, Aaron slipped a hand into his pocket and withdrew a slightly squashed packet of Marlboro cigarettes. He had no real preference for the taste of various tobacco brands, but he loved the red flashes that adorned the Marlboro box. A lone cigarette, like a slender finger, was tapped out of the packet and placed between his lips. An exchange was made in Aaron’s pocket and his silver Zippo lighter replaced the half empty carton in his hands. They cupped around his chin, igniting the spark that produced the essential flame. For a split second Aaron’s mouth was illuminated by the warm orange glow of the lighter, before it was masked by the first puffs of smoke. The whole process had been done on autopilot as soon as Aaron had exited the bar and entered the alleyway. Maybe he really was addicted to something? Maybe nicotine had sunk its demonic claws into him, controlling his actions? Aaron had never really thought about it, he simply enjoyed having a smoke.

The back-alley was currently occupied by a stack of empty beer crates, a dumpster for the trash, and a young couple who were waving their arms furiously as they argued. They both held half burned cigarettes in their fingers, wafting them around like miniature glow sticks at a rave party. The male, dressed in faded jeans that were ripped at the knees and a “Ride the Lightning” t-shirt, was babbling on about too many other men flirting with her, the “her” in question being the female who stood with her back to the fire escape. She wore a black crop top that showed off her ample cleavage and pieced belly button, and a skirt that needed to be re-categorized as a belt because it was so short. Her tatty fishnet stockings just about covered her modesty, but her outfit left little to the imagination. As she gestured pulling her long bleach blonde hair out to indicate her frustration with his constant backbiting and envy, Aaron made a calculated judgement that the guy was in the right. It was nothing to do with the woman’s appearance – Aaron had no problem with people dressing however they liked and was happy to go along with the concept of “if you’ve got it, flaunt it”. Aaron’s instant decision was based upon the man’s t-shirt. There was an unwritten rule that the older the Metallica album depicted upon someone’s t-shirt, the more that they knew their ****. If someone had a “Kill ‘em All” t-shirt, then they were a ******* genius.

Aaron momentarily forgot about the young dark-haired woman that had escorted him out into the alleyway, becoming engrossed in the squabble that was taking place. He’d seen this kind of event played out over and over again, in numerous venues, usually fuelled by alcohol and the green-eyed monster of jealousy, yet still it fascinated him. It was probably some deep-rooted psychological connection with the fights that he’d witnessed between his parents. The words of the woman that he’d just met in the bar brought him back to reality. He turned to her, smiling almost apologetically. “I’m so sorry,” he said with warmth that was akin to the glow on the end of his cigarette. “I should have thought about you.”

Drawing in a huge final breath of smoke as if his very life depended on it, Aaron tossed the sizzling stub onto the cold below floor below. He stamped on it and twisted his foot to extinguish the flame as if it were the head of a deadly venomous snake. He noticed the girl’s outstretched hand hovering invitingly before him, and gladly accepted her offer to take it. As he clasped her hand, Aaron was mildly surprised that her skin felt a little cooler than he’d expected, but thought nothing else of it. He offered another smile towards the outgoing rock chick, and lead the way down the backstreet. “I guess the stench of stale beer and trash cans isn’t such a great smell either!” joked Aaron as the pair escaped the argumentative couple and the drone of the jukebox that echoed from inside the club. “Just how far do you wanna go?”

Vega quickly scanned the meals that were lingering outside. She thought of them not as people, but as sustenence. Each may hold a different flavor within them...a different taste to their blood. Vega recalled the taste of most of the men she had been with, it is how she categorized them in her mind.

She paid no mind to the noises from all the bodies in the alley. She had formulated her plan the moment she locked eyes with Aaron, it was now time to carry it out. She was having a hard time holding back the hunger that lingered deep within her. It had been some time since she had fed and the scent of the male, along with the feel of his hands...were almost too much for Vega to take. Vega closed her eyes, for a brief moment and tried to swallow the need that was burning deep, at least temporarily.

He would be hers, willingly or not. Vega knew that she alone, would not be able to take this man...she needed assistance.

With a low laugh Carmen said, “I will go as far as necessary, Aaron.” With that, Carmen released his hand and wrapped her arm around his waist. He was much taller than she was and Carmen knew that he may not give it up so easily. They all eventually do, but some take work...this one would take some work, surely.

As they walked a bit down the alleyway, Carmen scanned the area so as to find the best spot. Someplace away from the bar, secluded. Not knowing if this one would be a screamer or not, it was important for her to find a dimly lit doorway or the like, so as to muffle any sound he may make when she takes him.

Carmen directed her attention back at Aaron...she saw the blood coursing through his jugular, which fed her need that much more. In that moment, Carmen was in charge..and she was much stronger than Vega. Carmen could swallow her needs down and not think twice about them, until the time was right. She knew that being reactive was not always best..and that the time would come for her to release those needs. For now, she held them at bay.

A single thought slithered in, at that moment…

Ambrose knew where she was, he always did. Vega did not understand how he could track her, and why he would even want to. He had been off procuring more for the lineage...it was his quest. Vega had finally decided to go on a quest of her own, and she had told him so.

Then, like the proverbial parting of the Red Sea, Carmen saw the perfect place to make Aaron hers. With the speed of a cheetah, Carmen released her arm from Aaron’s waist and grabbed both his wrists. She turned him and pushed him back, so that his back was flush against the inside of a doorway. It was dimly lit and away from any windows and prying eyes. Being that Carmen was so very small..she could only pin his wrists out to the side, and not over his head, as she would have liked. She had gained much strength, after being turned..and she used every bit of it against the male. Carmen pushed her body into Aaron and separated his legs with hers, so she was nestled between.

It is then, she looked up into his eyes and smiled, her fangs visible along with tiny droplets of liquid falling from each, “ How far would you like to go Aaron?” Carmen stood on her toes and gently used her tongue to lick along the pulsing jugular that she had eyed earlier.

Aaron had absolutely no idea what he was expecting to happen when he had asked the young woman to escort him outside for an innocent cigarette. Sure, she was cute, more than just cute, but she wasn’t really the type of girl that he’d normally go for. He liked redheads, strawberry blondes, girls with brightly coloured eyes. Then again, since arriving in Harper Rock, he’d hardly been inundated with offers from hot women. He was only just finding his own feet here, let alone the bodies of attractive females! Tonight, he was enjoying the attention, the fact that someone was interested in him. Aaron was particular impressed that the dark-haired beauty had made the effort, made a play for him. He was a liberal kind of guy, and although he held traditional values of trying to be a gentleman, Aaron had no problem with the woman taking the lead.

However, there was taking the lead, and there was taking the lead. Suddenly finding his back slammed up hard against a darkened doorway was not quite what Aaron had envisaged from this little escapade. His initial reaction was one of surprise, verging on shock. He’d sensed that the groupie was interested in him, but not quite this keen. The speed at which she had launched herself at him was almost unbelievable; he simply hadn’t seen it coming until his spine was already flush with the cool steel door of an office block. It was like the strike of a cobra. And the power! His acquaintance was fairly slight of build, hardly possessing the physique of a WWE wrestler, yet she had pinned him to the wall with consummate ease, like a tiger pouncing on its prey. Aaron gazed at her, stunned.

The sensation of the woman’s tongue across his neck was exciting, and her lithe body rubbing up between his legs was pushing his red-blooded male buttons. Aaron wasn’t sure if he should feel scared or aroused. Was she some kind of crazy freak who lured men into alleyways? Was she into kinky ****, and this was her idea of foreplay? Aaron was not averse to trying new things and experiencing more deviant forms of fun, but he’d only just met this chick in the bar. And where the **** had the fangs come from? She could, of course, simply be a horny young goth with a more direct approach to dating. She’d probably read too much “Fifty Shades of Grey”: pile of crap. Either way, Aaron felt a little uncomfortable about how quickly things had developed, and responded to her question. “I think this is far enough for now,” said Aaron, “there’s no need to rush things.”

With his response delivered, Aaron pushed back gently against the woman to free himself from her grasp. But he couldn’t move. Somehow the slender-framed girl was holding him in place, as if he had glue on his back sticking him to the material of the door. His wrists were held tightly in position by her soft hands, like they had been restrained in handcuffs. He pushed again, harder, more forcefully to try and break her grip, but was met by equal resistance. “Look lady,” exclaimed Aaron, “I think you need to back off!”

This time Aaron shoved the woman, almost aggressively, while wriggling to try and break free. He’d witnessed enough domestic violence in his time to know that he would never hit a woman, but this little honey needed to calm down before things got awkward.

Carmen felt the male trying to struggle away...she saw the confused look in his eyes and it was then, that Vega came back. Vega looked into his eyes and through the haze she saw it...she saw fear.

Vega had experienced this type of fear before, and it was her own. So many times she had been taken without her consent, most recently by Ambrose. Every one of them had taken her without asking...they did not even ask!! Thoughts of being tied down crept into her young mind, the feeling of not being able to escape...the want to scream but knowing that this might heighten the experience of the one taking her. So, Vega just submitted, every time. As Vega escaped into her own mind, Aaron got one wrist free...was she going to lose him, was she going to allow the one to be lost?

Like a light switch on a wall being flicked, Carmen came to the rescue, once again. Carmen knew how to dominate a man, she used her experience and her knowledge of the streets to do so. With a quick movement of her leg, she took his knees out from beneath him. As he fell to the ground, she grabbed the free wrist, with unbridled speed...he would NOT get away. As the males body fell to the hard pavement, Carmen ensured that she positioned him so that he fell into the frameway of the door, as opposed to out into the alleyway. With a muffled thud, they both hit the ground, Carmen was on top of him and she prepared to carry out the plan.

Laying flush against the male was not the position Carmen wanted to be in...she wriggled up to a sitting position opened her legs and straddled him, using both thighs to squeeze his lower torso, just a bit. His arms were now pinned over his head, as she had desired previously. With mid-section nestled snugly between her thighs, his arms over his head, held by his wrists, Carmen angled her body so they were face to face…

“ I will not back off, Aaron...your time has now come.” With those words, Carmen took both of his wrists into one of her hands, and held them tightly, as if bound by soft silken restraints. This allowed one hand of Carmens, to remain free..

Carmen lowered her head to Aaron’s chest and used her teeth to make a small tear at the collar of his Tshirt. It was then that Carmen saw his blood pulsing faster through the veins in his neck...her thirst became almost too much to bare. She needed to stay focused..but that blood, the pulse of the thick liquid through his veins...maybe just a graze of her mouth would satisfy..maybe.

Carmen pulled back up from his neck and watched...with a small tilt of her head and a toss of her hair...she made her decision...A smile came across her lips and a small stream of saliva slipped from the right side of her mouth...like a predator pounces upon prey, Carmen went to Aaron’s neck… a small nip of her fangs, not a bite… brought about small droplets of blood… with the tip of her tongue, she took the blood in, in the most delicate of ways. The taste was exquisite, almost orgasmic...warm and thick with a slight copper taste. Before Carmen pulled away, she used her entire tongue to lick the wound...making sure no blood was left to waste.

She sat up and took Aaron’s chin in her free hand, cupping it gently. “Do not resist, your time to rule has now come. You will be a part of something so grand that it cannot be explained in mere words…” As quickly as it was spoken, her hand released from his chin and ripped his t-shirt from the small tear that was made, down to his navel..exposing his chest, exposing his beating heart.

How many times was it physically possible to utter the phrase “what the ****?” in a five second period? Five… six… seven… maybe even eight? Someone needed to call Guinness because Aaron Hunter must have just broken the world record with his run of expletives. From a position of surprise only seconds earlier, Aaron had shifted to a state of panic. What appeared to have been some kind of kinky game was now something far more serious. The alarm bells were ringing, louder than any drum solo that he had ever performed. This was no drill, this was real; this was DEFCON 1.

What the hell had happened to the sweet, rather demure woman from the bar? Was she on drugs? Had she popped some kind of pill before they’d left and ventured into the alleyway? Her transformation was monumental, like Dr Jekyll morphing into Mr Hyde. She was foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog, and her strength was almost incomprehensible. It was as if she had taken some sort of power potion, like a crazy, pumped up steroid junkie. The woman was clearly dangerous, clearly insane!

Aaron barely felt the prick of attacker’s fangs on his neck, as his adrenaline was already kicking in. He’d endured enough pain throughout his childhood from beatings dished out by his father to not allow a mere bite hurt him. However, he was struggling to breathe properly as the assailant’s thighs clenched around the bottom of his rib cage, forcing essential air out of his lungs. Aaron was stunned by the events, but managed to focus all of his strength into his arms, pushing his two wrists against the woman’s one, while she was momentarily distracted by her t-shirt ripping antics. His right hand broke free, like a dolphin liberated from the tuna fisherman’s nets. Without thinking, without any form of hesitation, Aaron swivelled his shoulder and swung his arm with all the might that he could muster. The palm of his hand caught the dark-haired woman smack bang on her cheek, slapping her hard enough to cause her neck to flex like a spring and her head to rock sideways. Whiplash. The connection of hand to face caused an audible crunch to echo around the doorway. It was a noise that Aaron had heard all too often.

Aaron froze. He had vowed never to use violence to solve a conflict, particular against a woman. Hitting a woman was the lowest act that he could imagine, perpetrated by scum, cowardly bullies with no respect. In that split second, Aaron had opened Pandora’s box, releasing all of his personal evils, the demons that had haunted him since he was a child. Over twenty years of hatred, bitterness and anger flowed through the muscles of his arm as they powered his hand into the face of the girl. The surge of energy came from a location deep inside Aaron, a dark place that had been hidden, locked away from the world, never unchained… until now. It didn’t matter that his combatant was no ordinary woman; the beast had already been unleashed.

The movement of the human was quicker than Carmen had expected, he surely showed strength. As his hand hit Carmen square upon the face, she did not feel any pain...she felt nothing. Carmen had been a punching bag for many… so many. It was then that Vega took the lead… “ Aaron, I do not want to hurt you… I promise you that what I am offering is beyond your wildest dreams.”

Vega recalled the promises that Ambrose had made to her..she recalled how she felt, a sense of calm had come over her while Ambrose spoke into her mind. She submitted and did so willingly.

As soon as Vega spoke she used her new strength and speed to grab Aaron’s wrists, yet again. With both his wrists locked firmly between her hands, she slammed them to the ground, above his head. The crack of bone against the hard pavement and the look of fear upon the males face, brought a smile across Vega’s face. She had him...finally.

Vega maneuvered herself down Aaron's body, so that her thighs locked upon his his upper legs..her feet were placed so that his legs were not able to move..as if he was restrained. With his hands now securely in place...Vega gazed down at the male that lay underneath her. “ I know you are afraid Aaron...but don’t be. I chose you out of them all...you are the One that I chose for myself. You will become like me...you will have enormous strength...and powers that even your own imagination cannot grasp...yet” It was then that Vega lowered her head to Aaron’s face, hovering for a brief moment over his mouth, with her own…

Vega felt that Carmen wanted to be in charge..but not for this part. Aaron would be hers and Carmen would not have any part of him. Carmen had protected Vega for all her life...in this instance, Vega wanted to do this on her own..for herself. So Vega locked Carmen in a cage, far back in the recesses of her mind.

Vega smiled at Aaron and gently licked his lips with the tip of her tongue..before grazing him gently with her fangs...She felt him trying to struggle..but it would do no good..not now or ever again.

A shooting pain surged through Aaron's hands as they slammed down against the cold, abrasive pavement. It felt like a bolt of lightning, an iron spike nailing him to a solid wooden cross prior to a crucifixion. But Aaron was no Jesus. He was no saviour, no Son of God... he was a demon, a flaming devil fuelled by the fire of years of pent up aggression and anguish. A shroud of fiery red mist engulfed his soul, choking out reality, rendering Aaron crazed, like a raging bull, snorting at the matador's crimson cape. Visions of previously locked away memories cascaded into Aaron's mind like a tsunami of torment. Deep wounds, mental scars imprisoned in the darkest recesses of Aaron’s subconscious, were slashed wide open. A can of worms had not been opened, no; far worse, this was a cage of hissing snakes, vicious, venomous vipers of vengeance.

The scraping sound of a leather belt, sliding slowly like a slithering snake from the hoops of a pair of old jeans, echoed through Aaron's mind. The image of his father wielding the makeshift lash like a coiled cobra ready to strike corrupted his thoughts. His father, the torturer, with an angry, scarlet flushed face, gazing with piercing, inflamed eyes of resentment towards his only son. Resentment that Aaron's birth had caused so much haemorrhaging in his beautiful wife's body that she would never carry another child. Raymond Hunter always blamed Aaron for causing the trauma to his beloved wife, Bethany. It was the root of all his violence and hatred. Were it not for Aaron, Bethany Hunter would not have turned to drugs and alcohol for comfort, would not have spiralled downwards, uncontrollably into her own personal Hell. Aaron knew this; he carried the enforced guilt throughout his childhood and beyond. Indoctrinated though beatings, Aaron was the one to blame, he was the evil one, the demon offspring. Blood had been on his tiny hands, literally, since the very moment that he was born. This was Aaron’s punishment, his judgement day, his day of reckoning when he would pay for his sins. His demonic day of destiny.

The women's words showered down on Aaron's face like cooling tropical rain, easing the flames that burned so ferociously inside of him. He wasn't really aware of anything that his assailant was saying, her speech simply splashing on his skin, soothing his frayed nerves. Suddenly Aaron felt relaxed, as his attacker's dark and hypnotic eyes - only an inch away from his own - somehow seemed to calm his fear. There was no more struggling, no more resistance as Aaron embraced both his guilt and his fate. A sorrowful tear trickled like molten lava from his volcanic eyes, tracing a pathway across his cheek. Aaron closed his lids tightly. "I'm ready to die," he whispered gently. "Kill me... clean my wounds"

It was a scene that had played out in the minds of humans down through the centuries, one with a primal edge to it, raw, gritty. Nature documentaries could capture it on film, movies could try and capture it but failed, missing the essence of the actual happening of that moment. That moment of being prey. Abject panic. immeasurable rage, fierce denial, and shattered and broken resignation, these they flow with death. The appeal to a higher power, asking an either impotent creator or an obviously disinterested one, that was what Tizoc, or rather, Ambrose nowadays looked for.

This one had a hint of that in him in that there was a request, a tradition for his demise he had envisioned. The Aztecs had done the same, cleaning their dead and placing their most prized belongings, in the case of a lord even a servant and his wife, alongside him for his trip to the underworld. This one had asked the wound be cleaned... he could learn perhaps.

Tizoc watched with interest from the nearby fire escape. He was near the top of it when the scene began and as it had progressed, so to had he descended toward the concrete laden ground below. Vega's methods with instinctual. The blood and the hunt called her. It was something she would likely use every time, an ingrained part of the spirit of the gods that had invaded her flesh, Ambrose's own blood acting as an agent to carry the Darkness into every vein within her. He would teach this one, she would learn well. Her determination shows a willfulness and they methodology, brute force shows an impatience and brashness. These are the things Ambrose watches for when his childer birth their first fledgling. Afterward he begins to teach them how to gift the kill to the Darkness, the Smoking Mirror in a more appealing way. She may have the mental fortitude to perform rites.

This makes the elder vampire think of his own first childe and love, a forbidden love by his sire's standards. He wonders if she would make the same choices he did. Vega. She bares her soul in the moment of turning, all vampires do.

Ignoring the human for the moment Ambrose slides a thought into Vega's mind this is her moment. Every man and woman die, but only a first time sire can be where she is right now. This is her experience to remember. Take his hearts blood at the end. It is the richest... remember, you must bleed into his body. Your blood will invite the shadows into his flesh that will bring him back." After that an image, seen from Ambrose's perspective. His hand reaching out toward Vega and Aaron in their current situation holding an obsidian dagger.

You must take his heart.

Vega hesitates...she hears the human speak of death..he speaks of wanting to die? Vega feels his body relax underneath hers, she senses that he has or will fully submit..as in this moment, he has become hers.

“ This is not death, Aaron, it is a rebirth...you will join with others and become part of a family. You will be the one, my one.”

No sooner than Vega says that, she feels him close...Ambrose. It is then that she hears his voice… it speaks to her and directs her. Vega does not look around to see how close Ambrose is… as her charge for the eve is beneath her, waiting for her to take him. His voice is smooth and touches every part of her mind...it feels like silk being run across her skin...Vega is excited in the fact that Ambrose is watching her...

Ambrose is not the only voice in Vega’s mind. Carmen has begun to scream from her cage...she wants out and is doing everything to be freed. Vega hears her protector call her whore, call her names that Vega had only heard from the men that had defiled her once upon a time ago. The hatred that Vega feels coming from Carmen, chases out the sound of Ambrose's voice. How could one that has protected her for so long, now have such a hatred? Is it that Carmen wants this one for herself, does she feel as though she is missing something...or is Carmen aware that Vega may not need her any longer? It is then that Vega regains focus...Vega releases Aaron's wrists and brings them to her hair, running her hands along the sides to the back of her head...Carmen, has been wiped away...at least for the time being.

Vega turns her attention to the male that she is straddling..she notices a small tear making its way down his cheek...Vega leans over and uses the tip of her tongue to absorb that tear… her consumption of Aaron has begun. Vega kisses him gently on the lips and pulls back...

Vega looks towards the sky, her fangs exposed..and smiles..with great speed she bites into Aaron..not once and not gently. Vega starts mid chest and like a lion eating its prey, she meticulously shreds away layers of skin and muscle...the blood flows immediately and it begins to saturate both Vega and Aaron. Vega lets out a guttural groan and continues..her body moves with every tear into Aaron’s body… her goal is the heart… she will have his, this night.

It’s as if the tearing of flesh continues on for hours...but it has been just moments...Vega sits back and observes Aaron lying beneath her, his chest a bloody mess and his sternum exposed to the moonlight. Beneath the ribs lay the prize...Vega reaches up, once again, and clears her blood soaked hair from her face… with two hands she separates the humans rib cage and exposes the beating heart…

Her thirst for his blood has reached a fevered pitch..she wants him, she wants to taste him. As soon as the thought entered her mind, Vega reaches down and cups the beating heart. She fondles it for a moment...feeling it pulsate between her fingers..feeling the blood rush in and out as she holds it gently within her small hand. Vega lays another kiss upon Aaron’s lips and rips his heart from his body at the same time...without hesitation, she brings the organ to her mouth and bites...his blood enters her mouth and she drinks it...savoring its taste and the warmth. Vega recalls that she must complete the circle… she gently places his heart back within his chest..ensuring it is nestled in the spot from which it came. Vega takes each of her wrists and brings them one at a time to her mouth..she does not simply bite..she tears into her own flesh on each wrist. Her blood must mix with his...Vega holds her wrists over Aaron and lets it flow into him...then she lowers her hands into the open chasm that is is chest and lets her blood pool...a true mixing.

It is then that Vega realizes that she must get him to a secure place. She recalls that it took but a few nights for her to totally recover..and an alleyway is not the place to do it. Before she slides off Aaron, she brings her right wrist to his mouth..with her left hand she parts his lips and allows her blood to flow once again into his mouth. This ensuring that the bond be completed...an eternal bond.