We all experience hunger. It's a pull inside of us, driven from several different places. Hunger, also, has a variety of meanings. We feel hunger for food, to sustain us and keep us alive, we are hungry with lust, driven by natural hormones, and we can also be hungry for power. I, for one, can totally vouch for the majority of these.

I wake up entirely too warm for a vampire. My face is pressed against something that smells absolutely delectable. Something hot pulses beneath my nose, close beneath my lips and I resist the urges I feel. My skin vibrates with the hunger burning up inside me, flames licking up my throat, a viable ache inside. With a groan, I lean back, disentangling myself from what I find is Phil, curled up against me on the couch. Our bodies are flush, toe to shoulder, his shirt tossed on the floor, my joggers hanging haphazardly off of my hips. His face is passive and soft, all traces of his wisdom and years gone in his sleep. No light streams in through the windows, telling me it's sometime in the night. Our legs are tangled up, the small space of the couch leaving no wiggle room. Phil doesn't wake when I move, letting out a sweet snore. I swallow thickly and let my eyes dart around the room. A message from Netflix pops up on the screen, asking if we're still watching. I push my hair back and carefully stand up without waking Phil before I make my way to the kitchen in search of what I'm craving. To my demise, no blood can be found and my throat persistently burns. With nowhere else to turn, my options all exhausted, I walk back down into the lounge, leaning over Phil.

"Hey, Phil, come on Phil..." I shake his shoulder gently, relaxing when he blinks his startling azure eyes up at me. With a slow stretch, he wakes up, sitting up slowly with worry in his eyes. 

"Dan? What time is it?" His eyes dart around the room. I grab my phone off of the coffee table, hand shaking as I do and see it's 4 in the morning. 

"4." I reply shortly, swallowing hard and wincing at the burn. Phil seems to notice. 

"Oh! Oh. Alright, Dan. Come on, get dressed. We're going hunting." Phil also seems to notice the way my eyes widen at that. He chuckles, sitting up and tossing the blanket over the back of the couch. 

"Like I said before, we don't intentionally kill anyone. We don't want to be monsters, at least, the majority of us don't. All we're going to do is find some low life's and take what we need. I'll keep you on a tight leash." He winks as he heads into his bedroom. 

"Can't you just get more of that blood you had in the fridge?" I plead, following close behind him. Phil opens up his closet, pulling out a pair of light grey skinnies and a blue tee before turning back to me. 

"You have to learn how to hunt eventually, Dan. It doesn't work the way you want it to. The sooner you figure all this out, the better." I glare a bit at Phil, knowing the anger is misplaced, he seems to understand that, too, since he just smiles sympathetically and slips out of his joggers, tugging his jeans on. 

"I don't want to." I know I sound like a stubborn child talking about not eating my veggies, but the thought of attacking someone, of biting someone, of taking away their lives-

"We're all part of a circle, Dan. You've seen the Lion King?" He asks playfully. I roll my eyes, grabbing a pair of black skinnies and a hoodie from my suitcase. 

"I swear, Phil if you quote the Lion King to me right now I'm going to kill you." 

"Someone beat you to that about 182 years ago. But, seriously. That pathetic circle of life thing they go on about? It's kind of true. We just happen to be at the top of that circle, the beginning. And for us to survive, we have to take from those...below us? I hate saying it like that, like we're better, but we're just more evolved, I guess. Look, Dan, I won't let you hurt anyone, okay?" I sigh and pull my hoodie on over my head, resigning with the fact that I'm going to have to adjust somehow. 

"Yeah, alright. But what if you can't control me?" I question, fear evident in my voice. Phil just smiles. 

"Trust me?" He asks, shrugging into his jacket. I have no reason not to. 

Phil leads me up the staircase to the roof of his building, unlocking the door and stepping out into the chilly night air. It doesn't cool me down as it used to, just passing over my skin, unnerved. Phil takes a second, stopping at the edge of the roof, hands in his pockets as he breathes deeply, looking out over our little section of London. I don't dare to disturb him, standing a few feet behind him as he works out whatever process he has. A few seconds later, he turns to me, stretching out his arm in an offering. I cock a brow. 

"What?" 

"Are you suggesting we jump off of this building?" My voice rises a couple of octaves. Phil laughs, shaking his head. 

"Just to the next roof right there. Come on, scaredy cat, I won't let you fall." He teases playfully, wiggling his fingers. I sigh and take his hand in mine, holding on tightly. 

"Damn rights you won't let me fall." I poise myself on the edge of the building, toes hanging dangerously off of the ledge, my nerves one tight ball coiled in my stomach. There are two things keeping me going: The persistent ache in my throat, and Phil's hand, grasped tightly in mine. He tugs once and I bend my knees with him, closing my eyes as we jump. 

If I wasn't already dead, I'd be sure I'm about to die. The air beneath my feet is like a warning, the world screaming at me to find a way out of this situation. I open my eyes, taking in Phil, his pin-straight, ebony hair whipping around his pale face in the wind. His body is relaxed as he tucks his legs up. Subconsciously, I do the same, though not looking ahead, afraid of what I'll see. He opens his eyes, too, and before I can understand why, Phil tugs my arm sharply, pulling me to his chest. I gasp, letting myself slam against him as our feet hit the hard concrete of the roof. We don't stumble like I thought we would, Phil's landing as effortless as jumping a foot in front of you rather than the distance from his building to this one. He lets me go then, grinning at me. 

"Was that so hard?" He teases, smirking. I roll my eyes. 

"Shut up and find me some food, I'm starving." Phil laughs, the kind of laugh that takes your breath away because, my God, how is it fair for someone to be this flawless? I shake my head to clear my thoughts as Phil walks silently across the top of this building. Looking down into the alley below, I notice a man. He looks like bad news, even from this high up, his head shrouded in a black beanie, his demeanour rough and intimidating. 

"Not him," I whisper to Phil, voice a bit higher than I intended. 

"Yes, him." He replies quietly. "You have to stop feeling as human as you do. This jump down? Won't leave a dent, you won't even feel it. His muscles? Weak compared to yours. His fight? Incomparable. You were made for this, Daniel. This is what we do." I swallow my fears and let Phil pull my hand as we free fall. It seems to last forever in seconds before our feet hit the pavement with a dull 'thud.' The burly man turns to us, reaching into the waistband of his jeans to retrieve a gun. Phil just shakes his head, moving to him impossibly fast and extracting the metal object from his hand. The man looks like he's going to put up a fight, but Phil has his arms locked behind his back before he can get any ideas. 

"Dan, now," Phil orders, no usual kindness or gentleness detectable in his tone. I swallow thickly again and let all my inhibitions melt away. I become a vampire, in every sense of the word, and leap into action, darting forward, letting the ache in my throat guide me. My teeth bare out as I grab the man's wrist, tugging it up to my mouth eagerly, away from Phil's grasp. Phil allows this, watching me with sharp eyes as my teeth sink into his skin. He doesn't move, then, doesn't make a sound, and if I wasn't totally lost on the feeling of the warm liquid quenching my pain, I'd be worried. After a few seconds, Phil lets go of him and comes to me, his arms winding around me strictly. To my own surprise, I growl, a warning for him, yet he only laughs. 

"Enough, Dan." Again, I'm surprised because I actually listen. I let his arm drop, step back several feet quickly, Phil stumbling back with his arms still around me like a vice. 

"Are you okay?" He asks, turning me to face him. His eyes are hungry, even though he won't admit it. We aren't here for him. 

"I'm fine." And it's true. I don't feel as grossed out as I thought I would. I feel alive. "Is he okay?" I ask, turning back to look at the big man slumped against the alley wall. Phil nods, letting me go now that he's sure I'm in control, walking over to him and checking his pulse. Phil licks the man's wrist where I bit, the cut healing quickly. 

"How'd you do that?" 

"Venom. It can be a healing agent as well. It's how we cover our tracks. He also won't remember a thing, a side effect from being bitten. He'll wake up, assume he got too drugged up or something, and head back to wherever he came from, a little light-headed, but none the wiser." Phil explains briefly as he makes his way over to me. He chuckles, using his thumb to wipe at the space beneath my lips. When he pulls his hand back, I'm appalled to see blood. 

"You're a bit messy," he admits, sticking his thumb in his mouth. I watch curiously. 

"How messy..." I slowly question. He shrugs and wipes a couple more places around my lips. 

"There, other than your mouth..." Phil swallows and looks away.  I lick my bottom lip, tasting the sweet blood. 

"Better? I don't want to see anything when we get home." Phil looks back at me, shaking his head. 

"Still messy." I roll my eyes and step closer to where he's stepped away from me, leaving barely any space between us. 

"Phil, get it off!" I whine childishly. Phil cocks a brow and smirks. 

"You really want that?" 

"Yes, now seriously just-" I'm cut off by the feeling of Phil's lips against my own. His smooth, cool tongue glides across my lips, ridding them of the offending red while simultaneously tearing me apart. My eyes slide shut, my hands wringing the front of his shirt because nothing has ever felt like this. It's a slow burn, so unlike the one I felt earlier, igniting deep within me, ripping through me at an agonisingly slow pace, licking up each vein and nerve ending. I could spend forever kissing Phil, every part of me bending to him, giving myself to him. Phil's hands are like anchors, keeping me in this moment, reminding me of his strength and his loyalty to me, the risks he's taken, the way that he's given everything to ensure my safety. They slide around my waist, resting in the dip of my lower back, grounding me. Now, I feel a whole different kind of hunger. We don't necessarily need the air, yet we pull away after a few minutes, wide-eyed and shaken up, realising that yes, this connection? It's real. And it's going to fuck us up.