A Game

"How long have you been here, Natalia?" Callista asked, her eyes flitting across the forbidden romance Natalia shared. The book's premise was captivating, even for someone like Callista who scoffed at human emotions. Yet, right now, it was a mere distraction.

Finding Eydis was proving an insurmountable wall. Any mention of the Queen was met with veiled warnings and nervous glances, as if the name itself held a terrible curse. Eydis was here, a phantom lurking within the labyrinthine corridors of the academy.

Natalia chuckled, her crimson lips leaving a smear on the plastic straw as she sipped her frozen blood. "Fishing for my age again, Astra?"

Callista flipped the page nonchalantly. "Barely one century," she said, feigning disinterest. "Young blood in this nest of old bats.

Natalia choked, almost spraying her drink. "Y-you… how… and young from an eighteen-year-old? That's rich!"

Callista rolled her eyes, the supervisor's files swirling in her mind. Perhaps Eydis wasn't a student, but hidden within the staff? "Most around here seem, well, awefully seasoned," she bluffed.

Natalia's playful grin took on a mischievous edge. "Intrigued, are you? I've been around for a few decades, give or take."

Surprise flickered across Callista's crimson eyes. "A few decades? Why stay so long in this… cage?"

Natalia's usual peppy facade faltered for a moment. "What's so great outside? Concrete, pollution, predator and prey. Here," she murmured, her gaze locking onto Callista, "everything's… consensual. No games, no fear. Just indulgence."

Natalia's words resonated with Callista on an unexpected level. This academy, a sanctuary for those seeking refuge from the brutality of the outside world. But why, then, venture out and sow chaos? A pang of something akin to empathy, an emotion she rarely acknowledged, flickered within her. Perhaps there was more to these creatures than she had initially assumed, even Natalia.

But the question remained, a nagging thorn in her side – how many of them could truly resist the primal hunger that thrummed within their immortal hearts?

**

In the urban jungle's underbelly, the symphony of the city faded to a distant thrum, replaced by the harsh buzz of neon and the rhythmic drip of unseen rain. Moonlight cast long, distorted shadows upon the slick cobblestones of the alleyway. Here, bathed in the harsh, dim glow of a red neon sign advertising some long-forgotten nightclub, a scene of chilling beauty unfolded.

A young woman, breathtakingly beautiful with her cascading dark brown waves and golden eyes, held a hulking werewolf aloft with one hand. Her crimson lips curved into a smile, devoid of warmth.

The creature, its fur matted and snarling, writhed in her grasp, its powerful muscles rendered useless against the woman's inhuman strength. The only sound was the low growl of the werewolf, echoing in the confines of the alley.

"That all you got, chief?" she purred, her voice laced with honey and venom.

"K-Kill me, bitch!" The werewolf spatted, a guttural sound that barely escaped his constricted throat. Fear flickered in his silver eyes, battling defiance.

Eydis' grin widened, her fangs glinting under the neon lights. "Oh, I'll kill you, alright, but trust me, it won't be quick or painless."

A choked laugh escaped the werewolf, "My pack will find you, you...!"

A glint of silver flashed. With a sickening snap, a wet, metallic tang filled the air. Eydis, her expression serene, held aloft the severed tongue.

"Forgive me," she mocked, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. "Did something... interrupt your eloquent howl? Now, where were we? Well, let me tell you what I'm gonna do."

Eydis slammed the werewolf chieftain onto the unforgiving cobblestones, the impact echoing through the narrow alley. Her obsidian stiletto, a deadly mirror reflecting the harsh neon glow, hung precariously close to his throat. It wasn't just footwear; it was a silent threat, its polished edge glinting as ominously as the chilling smile playing on her crimson lips.

He choked, his breaths ragged, fear widening his silver eyes. Yet, defiance flickered in their depths, a testament to his warrior spirit.

"First, these superfluous appendages," she murmured, her voice a silken caress. The blade, a sliver of obsidian moonlight, traced a line down his chest, sending a fresh wave of agony screaming through him. It wasn't just pain; it was humiliation, carving away a piece of his being, inch by agonising inch.

"Such a waste," she continued, her amusement echoing in the neon-drenched alley. "They shall be discarded, oh so slowly, a chorus of suffering just like your pathetically bland blood, wouldn't you agree?"

He spat, a bloody mess, a guttural growl erupting from his constricted throat. But the raw defiance quickly contorted into a choked cry as her stiletto, a cruel obsidian spike, pierced his throat, stealing his breath in one swift motion.

The chieftain's silver eyes darted around the alley, searching for an escape, a glimmer of hope in the dim red light. He sent a desperate plea through the mindscape, a silent cry for his pack to reach him before his final moments.

Eydis, the very picture of a predator toying with its prey, revelled in his struggle. Every whimper, every tear that traced a path down his weathered face, fueled the chilling amusement playing on her crimson lips.

"A recent human documentary sparked a fascinating idea," she drawled, her voice carrying a chilling edge. "The way they extract blood from livestock... such efficiency, such meticulousness."

She leaned closer, her breath a cold whisper against his ear. "Perhaps a more… humane approach is in order. Wouldn't you agree, chieftain?"

The blade danced on his skin, carving a map of pain. He wanted to scream, beg, but her gaze held him captive, transforming his roars into whimpers. Tears, a warrior's shame, streamed down his face.

"Ready for the main course, little puppy?" Her voice was a chilling caress.

He wished for death, for oblivion to claim him from this monster masquerading as a woman. And he feared not just for himself, but for his pack, for the unseen terror they were facing. Numbers wouldn't be enough.

But his world quickly dissolved into darkness, the last thing he registered was a low voice cut through the haze.

"Always so theatrical, Your Majesty." A figure emerged from the shadows, tall and imposing, his crimson eyes glinting with amusement.

"Lionel," she purred, the blade vanishing as if by magic. "Interrupting my little... entertainment?"

He chuckled, his gaze lingering on the fallen werewolf. "All that drama, yet you ended him swiftly. You wanted him to send the signal, didn't you?"

Eydis tossed the bloodied blade aside, a chilling smile playing on her lips. "Let them come, Lionel. Being hunted has its perks, wouldn't you agree?"

Lionel bowed, his voice laced with a darkness that mirrored hers. "Just be careful, My Queen. You tread on dangerous ground."

The fetid alley echoed with the guttural snarls of ten werewolves materialized from the shadows like phantoms. Glowing silver eyes, hungry embers in the dim red light, locked onto Eydis and Lionel.

Eydis stood unfazed, her gaze fixed on Lionel who moved through the pack with the lethal grace of a panther. "Any news on Lukas?" she inquired, her voice a calm island amidst the storm of growls and snarls.

Lionel, dodging a snapping jaw with a dancer's agility, landed a brutal kick to the beast's flank, sending it crashing into another. "Captured or dusted by the Watchers," he replied, his voice ragged from exertion. "Most likely the latter, knowing his taste for…distractions."

"Lukas and his weakness for pretty faces," Eydis mused, shrugging off her designer blazer like it was a mere inconvenience, revealing a form that belied her seemingly delicate stature. With a flick of her wrist, she rolled up her white silk shirt, its pristine fabric stark against the encroaching bloodbath.

A particularly bold werewolf lunged, its claws outstretched like wicked blades. Eydis, seemingly unfazed, froze the beast mid-air with a flick of her wrist, the movement so swift it appeared effortless. "Such a shame," she sighed, a hint of boredom flickering across her face as she ripped out the still-beating heart with a lightning-fast motion, crimson spraying across the pristine shirt. "Waste of perfectly good cashmere."

Tossing the dripping organ and discarded shirt onto the growing pile of twitching bodies, she casually buttoned her blazer back up. "Dry cleaning bills are becoming astronomical, Lionel. Perhaps I should negotiate a bulk discount with Orion."

Lionel, wiping the crimson splatter from his brow, dispatched the remaining werewolf with a final, decisive blow. "These 'cleanup duties' are usually Orion's forte," he observed, surveying the carnage with a sigh.

Eydis grinned, a predator relishing the thrill of the hunt. "Speaking of messes," she purred, her voice laced with amusement, "the blood seems to be complementing your hair colour, wouldn't you say, Captain?"

Lionel followed her out of the alley, shaking his head with a smile. Perhaps Queen Eydis was the reason vampires were known for their morbid sense of humour, but at least it was never dull.