"BOYS OF THE NIGHT - #4"

The Heaven was crowded that night - full of vampires and humans alike. They mingled together, the vampires being the only ones who knew who was who. The air hung thickly, not with smoke, but with tension. Tonight, the Brujah clan of NY ruled the privately owned club.
Howie felt quite at home, there among his violent kind. He watched through half-closed eyes as the owner of the club, a Toreador named Lily, looked about frantically. She was fearful that one of them was going to initiate a fight. The sophisticated Ventrus and the Brujah were eyeing each other, waiting for the other to make the first step toward a brawl.
He clasped his hands together under his chin, staring intently at the dancing couples on the dimly lit floor. He was searching for prey. Howie narrowed his gaze to a young woman who was incredibly drunk. She was wearing a revealing tank top and a high-cut skirt that rode up on her hips like a second skin. Her real skin was very fair, especially under this light, and veins full of raging blood flowed right underneath it. She had hair the color of flames that moved with her as she tried to entrance and capture every male's attention on the dance floor. The poor human had absolutely no idea who she was flirting with. Amused by her innocence, Howie smiled and lifted a jewel-encrusted wine goblet to his lips. The red liquid inside dribbled slightly down his chin. He brushed it away quickly, hoping no one would notice his sudden lack of table manners. But the drink in the cup wasn't red wine - it was thicker, darker. Blood.
Howie set down the glass and continued to stare at the dancing girl. A hunger grew very present in his dark brown eyes. The people at his table sensed his restlessness.
"The red-head, Brujah? The tramp? She probably has diseases. That is disgusting, Howard," a blonde Gangrel sneered that was sitting on his right. Howie waved a nonchalant hand at his friend and smiled absently. A brunette Nosferatu hung over his shoulder as he held her close protectively. She stared at Howie with wide eyes. A new vampire, very pretty, he thought to himself.
Howie merely smiled again, his vice-like gaze returning to the human. Narrowing his eyes even further, he pulled the rubber band out of his shiny black hair. It fell nearly to his shoulders, thick and wavy, like a feral mane that curled about his face and neck, framing his heavy Spanish features. It met on his forehead in a defined widow's peak that gave him a classic vampire look. His olive toned skin and large brown eyes only made him more attractive. Not to mention the rippling muscles that were now tensed and ready under the surface of his body...

He stood, his eyes never wavering. The blonde looked on, confused as to why he was drawn to the drunken young human. Howie sauntered to the dance floor, getting lost in a sea of unaware humans and perceptive vampires.
Just as the red-head was about to go sit down at the bar, a hand shot out and firmly grabbed her around the waist, pulling her back to the floor. She turned to find the most handsome guy in the whole club staring expectantly, motioning with subtly to dance with him. Thrilled, she laughed and stumbled along next to him, linking her arm in his. Their gazes met and his hypnotic stare deepened the trance she was already in. He led her to a secluded place, away from prying eyes and slowly brushed against her, moving seductively to the blaring beat of the music. She returned the gesture, rubbing her hips against his.
The end of the song came quickly and then Howie ushered her outside to the parking lot, lit only by one dull streetlamp, that flickered every once in while. He concealed them under an overhang, covering them with shadows. He placed her against the wall and gently kissed at her long white neck. She giggled and playfully pushed him away. Alcohol clung to her breath, creating a foul odor whenever she opened her mouth. Disgusted, Howie turned his head, rolling his big brown eyes with repulsion. Humans and their addictions, he pondered. Slowly, he turned back to her, smiling slyly. He wasn't about to let that small issue wreck his meal.
"What's your name, hon?" she asked, her voice slurred by the effects of the drug. Howie didn't answer, but kept kissing at her neck, eventually working up to sharp nips.
"Owww!" she growled and pushed at his broad shoulders. Annoyed, he slammed her back against the wall as she tried desperately to escape.
"You're only making this more difficult for yourself," he whispered threateningly in her ear. She whimpered. Howie stopped his attack to stare at his helpless prey. He loved to see their fear as they realized they were going to become food to the most advanced predator on the earth. He could practically smell her terror, and it gave him a rush like he'd never felt before. Well, since his last frightened kill.
"Are you gonna rape me?" Her voice sounded innocent suddenly, child-like. It was the fear of a certain death, and Howie reveled in it.
"Oh no... Vampires don't want sex... We want blood." Upon hearing this the girl tried one last daring attempt to get away - she got a hand loose and struck it out at him. Faster than light, Howie dodged it and grabbed her wrist, snapping it swiftly, his effortless force terrifying. She yowled in pain.
"Don't worry... not much longer, Baby..."
He opened his mouth, finally showing off his razor-sharp fangs. The girl screamed one last time.

Howie walked back into the club ten minutes later, wiping the spray of blood off his black pleather pants, a grin spread across his face. The blonde at his table spotted him enter the club again and raised his hands in the air. He clapped loudly and threw his head back, letting out a howl. A few vampires noticed the rucuss and stopped whatever they had been doing to watch the wild Brujahs revel in something.
Howie bowed dramatically and looked up, a wicked smile playing happily on his full lips. He recieved a few approving nods before returning to the his little party.
"Record time, my man," the blonde said and they high-fived before Howie sat down at the table and took a swig of his whiskey-laced blood.