The engine purred softly as Detective Bowers sat in his car with the radio playing at the lowest volume. Night has just fallen and he's parked near the boardwalk, furthest away from the lights and commotion of the city. It wasn't uncommon for him to post up here from time to time. it was always a quiet escape and deep in contrast to what he had to deal with daily.

He exhaled a sigh, titling his head with a tired grimace as he examined the glossy 8x10 prints in his lap. A manilla folder is centered there, containing the detailed reports and photographs from the coroner's office. All depict the graphic findings of the autopsies conducted on the most recent bodies found abandoned in some alley, adding to the list of unsolved murders.

Bowers keys in on one in particular and lifts it enough for the conveniently placed street light to shine over the most peculiar detail of the case, the puncture wounds piercing the victim's neck. His frown deepens and the words used in the report echo in his mind.

Exsanguination.

The draining of all blood in the body.

Every single one of them.

Dry as a bone.

When his stomach turns at the thought, he knew it was time to close the file. Bowers didn't make a habit of taking his work home with him and it was mainly because he didn't want the grit of his profession staining the energy of his home or his family.

But there was someone who needed to see this.

As if on cue, a soft tap at his window has him flinching and his eyes lift to find a tall male standing outside of his door. Dressed inconspicuously in all black, the gentleman leans down just enough for Bowers to make out the lower part of his face, shaded eyes, pale skin, and sharp jawline.

The detective exhales sharply once he recognizes him, trying to conceal the fact that he was startled a bit by the figure's sudden appearance.

He'd never get used to that.

Glancing upwards through the tinted glass, Bowers nods in acknowledgment before turning the key in his ignition.

The cool ocean breeze hits him as soon as he emerges from his car and the smartly dressed henchman that summoned him extends his hand wordlessly, signaling for Bowers to walk towards the blacked-out Yukon that's parked several feet away.

Bowers complies and walks with purpose, overly conscious of how close the gentleman was and of his holstered service pistol against his left hip as he moved. Not that it could help him in this situation, but his instincts were telling him to reach for the handle the closer he drew to the waiting vehicle.

The gentleman steps ahead of him just as he's about to reach the backseat door, cutting in to open it for him. His sharp movements have Bowers tensing but he regards him with a stiff-lipped smile of gratitude before entering and the fresh scent of pine and expensive cologne welcomes the detective as he settles in the seat beside the window.

The space in the middle remains vacant, giving Bowers only 22 inches of distance from the intimidating figure seated on the other side.

Similarly to his employee, he's dressed in a tailored suit that's dark in color with fair-toned skin. His low-cut hair is a similar shade but it was hard to decipher whether it was grey or black in this light. Which was the only type of lighting the detective ever saw him in considering he's only met him at night.

His features are youthful, late 20s to early 30s if Bowers had to guess, but he carried himself with a maturity that was beyond his years.

But Bowers was always more transfixed by this passenger's aura than his appearance.

He has a chilling and heavy presence that set off every alarm in the detective's trained mind.

This man was dangerous and not in any way someone who didn't know him would think.

Bowers makes a point to keep his eyes ahead, fidgeting back against the seat and pulling the manilla folder from under his coat slowly before clearing his throat.

"Sir.." he swallows slowly, overly aware of the other passenger's movement as he shifted in his seat to face him. Though Bowers couldn't see his face, he could feel his gaze fixed on him intently.

"Detective..." he says formally. His voice is deep and carries an effortless vibrato that always made a chill run down Bowers' spine at every encounter. After a beat, he glances over briefly.

"Appreciate you meeting me on such short notice. I know you're a busy man..." he begins and the other passenger chuckles darkly.

"I could say the same for you. I assume the reason for your call was worth us both cutting into our schedules though. Is that for me?"

The detective glances over thoughtlessly to catch hard and intimidating eyes on him. They blink slowly before shifting from Bowers' face to the envelope in his hands.

Bowers follows his gaze and exhales sharply.

"Oh! Yes, uh...These are the official coroner's reports for the bodies found near 42nd street earlier this week." He stammers, carefully offering the folder over so that his hands don't mistakenly touch the icy cold fingers now gripping its edge.

"Hmm...Yeah, I heard about that. Gruesome shit.." he mutters distractedly as he takes the folder and begins opening it. As he thumbs through the report, Bowers glances over just as he comes across the graphic autopsy photos.

The passenger narrows his eyes at it, furrowing his brow and tensing his jaw at the up-close image of a victim's neck.

"Interesting." He says aloud and Detective Bowers nods stiffly in agreement.

"Exactly what I said." He says.

"..and all of them were found like this? With the same wound?" The passenger follows up and Bowers nods again.

"In the same place. Now the times of death vary from victim to victim so it's unclear whether or not they knew each other. All different races. All different ages. We're still trying to identify a few of them. But whatever is responsible for this has fairly broad MO."

"Whatever?" The passenger interrupts, his tone lifting with the question. Bowers falls silent and his expression deadens.

"I'm sorry?" He asks and the passenger thumbs through a few other photographs with his jaw clenching with focus before responding.

"You said whatever...instead of whoever.." he notes casually and the Detectives chin trembles a bit as he backtracks.

"Oh..um..well..no human DNA was found on the bodies. Apart from their own of course..." he adds and the passenger nods in understanding.

"So you believe it was an animal?" He counters with a lifted brow and Bowers shakes his head.

"With all due respect sir...I think it's safe to assume what or... who is responsible. Hence why I contacted you. Due to the nature of the wounds and the autopsy notes, I'm inclined to believe that there's.."

"..a vampire in the city. Well..another one. That's tactless and sloppy." he cuts in, grunting humorously.

The word alone shouldn't evoke such a worrying reaction in his gut but since the day he became aware of their existence, Bowers never dared utter the word.

"Yes..." he responds cautiously.

There's a palpable tension rising in the backseat of the Yukon and silence prevailed between them as the intimidating passenger concluded his scan of the coroner's reports.

"Who else knows about this? " he breaks the silence suddenly, making the detective flinch a little. The passenger smirks briefly at his reaction before completing his thought.

"Your suspicions, I should say.." he continues and Bowers frowns thoughtfully at the question.

"No one that I'm aware of. But there are some rumors. A psycho serial killer. A cultist group. You know....apparently, it's trending online." He says and the passenger hisses an aggravated chuckle through his teeth.

"Of course it is.." he shakes his head.

He turns the cover of the folder over to close it, concealing its graphic contents, and Bowers' gaze catches on the large glistening blood-red ruby adorning his ring finger as he does.

Blinking and swallowing back his apprehension, Bowers lifts his eyes to regard him bravely and chooses his words carefully.

"I'm aware of the system you've established and that this type of...behavior..isn't something you all condone.."

The passenger glances up at him with interest as he spoke, setting the folder aside. Having his full gaze on him makes Bowers increasingly nervous and he does his best to avoid eye contact as he continued.

"....but I also figured if anyone were to know how to go about investigating something like this, it would be you...sir."

The passenger narrows his gaze on the detective's skittish demeanor, keying in on the pace of his heartbeat and the scent he was giving off due to his anxiety more than anything.

It was...amusing.

Thirsty........

"Are you...afraid Detective Bowers?" He asks suddenly, catching Bowers off guard.

He turns to him stiffly, shaking his head with a less-than-convincing frown.

"Um..no, sir. Why do you ask?" He quips and the passenger shrugs.

"Well...other than the fact that your heart rate is well above what's considered normal for a man your age...I can smell it on you. In your blood. Pheromones are a mother fucker. Always giving folks away..." he states casually, leaning his head back against the headrest.

Bowers' brow twitches at his words, glancing around the spacious backseat awkwardly in search of a proper response.

If there even was one.

"I'm..not sure what you....." he begins, only to be interrupted.

"It's different for everyone. The scent of their fear. For some, it's subtle, like a soft fragrance you only catch on a person in passing. On others, it's potent, like the way you can smell food cooking at a restaurant miles away on the breeze. So potent....you could nearly taste it...." He trails off, falling deeper onto a tangent Bowers never expected him to take.

The passenger's eyes fall off focus as he speaks, a soft smile lifting the corners of his mouth as he thinks.

"And the taste.....it's like nothing I could ever begin to describe. Fear has a way of enhancing everything. The flavor. The smell. The texture...you haven't tasted true blood until it's flooded with fear..."

The whimsical nature of his tone makes Bowers increasingly uneasy and he instinctually leans away when he finds himself back under a daunting gaze.

"Yours is a pleasant medium of the two. Your fear. Subtle but just loud enough for me to feel that little tingle in the back of my throat. Its...refreshing. I can tell you're no stranger to it, as well as I can tell you don't resist it. That's good. Fear is healthy. It's intelligent. It's what separates the fools from the ones equipped to survive..and you're no fool, are you, Detective? No....No I think you're smarter than the average man. Which is why you're best suited to be afraid right now. You have every right to be."

As the words left his mouth, the passenger's irises had expanded beyond their normal color and a deeply haunting blackness shines beneath the dim car lighting. He turns his head and Bowers is frozen beneath his glare, leaning away from the door as the appearance of tiny black vessels emerges around the passenger's eyes.

"So I'll ask again Detective...Are you afraid?" His darkened tone vibrates with a growl at its end and Bowers' brow creases deeper anxiously. He's unable to move. Unable to speak. The thickened air that existed in the tinted SUV was barely flowing through his nose to fill his lungs the longer he is trapped in the other passenger's harrowing stare.

After a long and exaggerated beat, he smiles and his dimples deepen as he flashed his perfectly aligned teeth.

"Relax Bowers..." he chuckles, leaning away and tapping the frazzled Detective's chest with the back of his hand. Bowers caves under the light touch, perceiving it to be much more impactful than it was.

"I'm just fucking with you..." the passenger continues to chuckle breathily, reaching for the folder placed between them on the seat. He offers it back to Bowers, regarding him expectantly.

Bowers glances down at the file and takes it slowly, feeling as if his bones were creaking from how stiff he was just then. With his other hand, he touches where he was causally tapped as if he could still feel the passenger touch through his clothing.

"Heh...right. Funny....so.." he clears his throat with a pause and the passenger relaxes back into his seat, gazing out the window at the boardwalk.

"I'll have my guys look into this and we'll get back to you. I'm not too keen on the idea of anyone hunting in my city with zero regards for decorum. So rest assured, if there are any other vampires out here that I don't I know about, I'll find them.  In the meantime, try to deter any rising suspicions of what this actually is....its been quiet up here for us and I'd like to keep it that way."

With that, the door Bowers was leaning against moves, and the henchman guarding it pulls it open completely for him to exit. Knowing that this meant he was dismissed, Bowers clutches the manilla envelope in hand and nods stiffly in the passenger's direction.

"Will do." He says before turning his body to exit the vehicle. The soles of his shoes touch the concrete and his knees feel like jello as he stepped out of the path of the open car doorway.

The tense-jawed henchman nods politely at Bowers as he cleared it and he shuts the door immediately before walking around to the front seat.

The distance between his car and the SUV couldn't be close enough but he steps swiftly in its direction now that he was free to go.  Just before he can make it midway, the sound of the SUV window lowering can be heard from behind.

"Detective!...."

The voice of the passenger is loud enough to stop him dead in his tracks and Bowers turns to him timidly.

The passenger smirks from inside the vehicle.

"Use that fear for good. Stay smart." He states ominously and Bowers glances around the parking lot in confusion before nodding.

" 'Preciate it..." he says and the window rolls back up without another word.

Some days later.....

" Tyson Bradley was last seen September 17th near the 7Eleven on the corner of Roosevelt Street wearing dark jeans, a grey hooded coat, and steel-toe work boots. If you or anyone you know has any information, contact the local...."

Mama Ruth taps the power button on her remote, shutting off the mounted TV centered in the break room. Her expression is grim and slightly troubled at the latest missing persons report on the news.

It wasn't an odd occurrence around these parts but that didn't make it any less disheartening. Especially when it seemed more frequent these days.

She sighs, setting the remote aside before rising from her seat.

She emerges from the small break area, entering the kitchen to find her nephew Jeffery wiping down the steel countertops.

He was a large man, roughly over 6'2' and 240 pounds, but he was the kindest and most gentle soul she'd ever hoped to meet in this lifetime. His love for cooking took his mind all over the world but his finances could barely take him outside of their county. But boy did that young man love to cook.

Hence the nickname 'Chef'.

Even from the distance, she heard a familiar voice speaking from his phone that was propped up against the wall and he pauses from his task periodically to watch a professional chef's technique with interest.

She smiles fondly at him as she passed, it fading slightly the moment she entered the front of house. It was a quiet night at Gerald's apart from the few scattered customers throughout the evening. The bulk of their business came from breakfast and lunch when more people were on the clock.

But Ruth enjoyed the quiet and easy tempo the late shift carried. Many questioned why the owner would bother working the least desired set of hours on the schedule but Ruth preferred it.

Ever since her husband's passing, sleeping alone in that apartment at night made her feel uneasy and she felt much safer in the diner anyway.

As ironic as that sounds...

She sighs and walks with a slight limp as she sets out on her nightly to-do list of refilling paper products in the front, starting the coffee, and cleaning the bar area.

Just then, her attention is pulled from her first task when the front door chimes to announce a customer entering.

She lifts her head slowly and distractedly.

"Welcome to Gerald's! Be with you in just....oh well look who's here." She switches tones from her usual greeting and smirks at the sight of a familiar young man.

Dressed in a tucked black shirt, dark jeans a leather jacket, Jungkook steps inside timidly.

His faded blueish-grey-toned hair with black roots is pushed back from his face, pulling focus to his attractive features and twinkling silver piercings.

He isn't soaked to the bone from rain nor is he dressed as if he'd just rolled out of bed.
His complexion isn't clammy or ashen and there's a sort of refreshed shine in his eye that's apparent even under the warm lighting.

Needless to say, he was more handsome than Ruth recalled.

His brow crinkles with confusion despite his slight smile and he glances over his shoulder as if Ruth weren't talking to him.

"Excuse me?" He chuckles, steadily approaching the bar. As he takes a seat on the barstool, Ruth sets aside a box of straws before meeting him from her side.

"Oh, nothing..just had a feeling you'd be here. Same feeling I had last night. And the one before that..." she trails off, leaning her elbow against the counter with lifted brows. Jungkook frowns playfully, shifting his gaze to the side briefly with a shrug.

He feigns ignorance despite knowing exactly what she was implying.

Every night since he'd first encountered the captivating dancer with the soul-melting gaze, Jungkook couldn't keep her from invading his thoughts. Even though his thirst had been sated momentarily, it still occupied a majority of his mind with its intrusive whispers reminding him of his true nature. At least until the image of her face and the memory of her unique scent rivaled it.

So the moment he opened his eyes to the dimly lit popcorn ceiling of Yoongi's apartment, Jungkook knew he had to see her again.

Not to hunt.

Not for blood.

Not even for sex, despite his thirst's clear wanting for her.

Jungkook just had to see her, even if for only a moment. He couldn't rationalize or explain it. Not even to himself, so he found it better to indulge this small fascination in hopes that it would eventually fade.

She was just another human that he'd soon hopefully forget.

He tried to be subtle and figured frequenting a place he knew she visited often was the safest route versus staking out her apartment.

Which he considered for a while per his thirst's rather perverse suggestions.

The second plan was to visit her job, which his thirst believed to be a great idea as well. Naturally. But the idea of being in a tightly packed, thirst-tempting, venom-inducing, pheromone-flooded sarcophagus of sin didn't seem too appealing either.

Gerald's seemed like the next best option since it seemed to be a place she visited often. Even with only him and Ruth in the front area of the diner, he could still smell her as if she were right beside him.

"I um...I don't know what you're implying.." Jungkook denies it with the ghost of a smile on his lips. Ruth's pouted smirk of suspicion deepens as she narrowed her eyes at him for a few seconds and Jungkook swears she could see right through to his soul.

If he had one.

After a moment, her expression relaxes.

"Mmmhmm...one black coffee right? No cream or sugar?" she asks, playing along with amusement as she leaned away from the counter. Jungkook sighs in relief as she did, the heat of her gaze and attractive scent fading a little as she backed away.

"Yes please.. thank you," he responds politely.

Ruth hums in response again, setting out to brew some fresh coffee on the machine. Jungkook sways in his seat patiently as she does, biting at his lip piercing mindlessly.

Periodically, he would glance in the direction of the door and Ruth notices it every time despite her back being turned.

She smirks knowingly.

"So..." she begins, almost startling Jungkook with her suddenness. Ruth strolls away from the coffee-making station and goes back to opening the box of straws to refill the dispenser.

"I'm a little old and forgetful so forgive me if you've told me this already...Tell me your name again..." she says, glancing over briefly as Jungkook fidgeted in his seat.

"Um...Jungkook, ma'am," he responds and Ruth nods.

"That's right... Jungkook. Where you from Jungkook? Again, I'm sorry if you've told me this." She lifts her hand and gestures towards her temple to imply her fleeting short-term memory and an empathetic smile crosses Jungkook's face.

"It's fine. I'm from uh...the west coast." He answers hesitantly, not wanting to give too much info about his former life away. Ruth grunts in amusement at his answer but resumes her tasks.

"Well that's broad.." she notes and from her tone, Jungkook could tell he sounded more sus than necessary.

"I moved around a lot so I don't really claim one particular area." he tacks onto his partial lie and Ruth seems to accept it this time.

"Yeah...That makes sense. I have family out that way. Palm Springs, I think. A world apart from this side of the country." She shakes her head at the thought.

"So what brings you up here? Can't be the weather or the abundance of people...." She jokes and Jungkook allows himself to laugh at the irony of her words.

That was exactly why he was there.

"Naw....just needed a change from what I was used to I suppose. Some place different." Jungkook shrugs casually. Mama Ruth regards him cooly for a moment, gauging the validity of his response before setting out on her next task of wiping down the counters.

"Hmm...So you left home to get away. You aren't in any trouble are you?" She slides in the invasive question with ease and Jungkook frowns.

"Um.....Trouble?" he perks his brow and Ruth nods.

"I could be wrong...but from my experience, the only kinds of people that come to a big city like this are the kind who are either running from something, hiding something, or are trying to disappear. Three things that ain't hard to do around here. I see it all the time. That's why I asked. Again...I could be wrong." her tone lifts into a sing-songy octave as she spread surface cleaner around on the bar. Jungkook's brow remains etched and his gaze falls into the circular motions of Ruth's paper towel.

Running from trouble.

As if there was anywhere he could go to escape the doom looming over him. As time passes and the longer he tries to resist his true nature, his natural impulse to kill, the stronger his thirst became. The pain was bearable most days if he fed enough the night before. But Jungkook knew deep down his need to kill was innate and blood was only part of the reward.

So perhaps he was running, but one can only get so far when what's chasing is yourself.

Hell, he was the trouble.

"N...no maam I'm not in any trouble." he lies smoothly, hoping he's read as genuine. Ruth pauses wiping the counter to look over at Jungkook.

"Then what are you hiding from, baby?" she asks.

The tone of her question seems casual but there's an undertone that tells Jungkook that Ruth was the intuitive type, purely out of concern. Always trying to assess, diagnose and fix in the way a true mother would. Or perhaps she was just nosey and presumptuous.

Jungkook could tell that much about her from their few interactions. She reminded him a lot of his mother.

Well, of what he allowed himself to remember.

Strong-willed with a soft and giving heart. Always wanting Jungkook to be the best version of himself no matter the circumstance.

He missed her.

A fissure cuts a seam through Jungkook's mask of innocence and he considers getting up and walking out of the diner for a moment as he hesitates to answer Ruth's question.

Luckily, the front door chimes and Ruth tears her concerned gaze from Jungkook to greet the entering customers with a smile.

"Hello! Welcome to Gerald's....be right back to pour your coffee baby..." she lowers her voice to alert Jungkook that'd she'd return and he nods in understanding as she went to tend to a young man and woman seating themselves in a booth.

As soon as she's away from him, he releases a shaky breath and his thirst's troubled voice echoes tirelessly in his head.

This is getting weird...

Why are you here...

This is stupid.

This is risky.

She's onto you.

You should leave.

Forget the girl...

Thirsty...

He shakes his head in denial, glancing up at the mounted clock then at the front door and toggling between them a few times impatiently.

Just leave...

Thirsty...

It's been three days...

She's not coming...

Wasting your time...

Feed...

She knows...

Leave. Now.

"Alright sweetheart... here's your coffee."

Jungkook blinks and his thirst is silenced just as Ruth returns to his end of the bar. She's setting down a steaming hot white mug of black coffee before him and its rich scent smacks him in the face.

Stinks.

Ew.

No.

Don't drink that.

Thirsty.

Leave now...

"Thank you." He says calmly, hooking his finger in the mug's handle to turn it. Ruth lingers for a moment and Jungkook glances up from his hot beverage to find her still watching him.

He perks his brow.

"You sure that's all I can interest you in? I mean you've come in for the past few nights and all you ever order is coffee..." she tilts her head.

"What is up with this lady?..." he says to himself, keeping his expression neutral.

"I like coffee.." he chuckles and Ruth nods.

"I see. But we do sell food too you know. Decent food. A strong working man like yourself needs more than coffee to get by. I'm just concerned.." she tries to soften her investigative tone with humor and Jungkook laughs softly, shaking his head.

"I appreciate the concern but I'm alright. I have a sensitive stomach so my diet is..."

He pauses as copious images of blood dripping from jus lips fill his mind, only to vanish in an instant.

"..kind of particular. But coffee is fine, I promise. Thank you. Again."

Her eyes narrow into slits for a moment but she eventually relents.

"Alright. Well....just let me know." She sighs with a genuine smile, tapping the bar softly before turning away.

With his little tail wagging at a leisurely pace, Apollo circles his favorite pooping spot just beyond the stoop.

It was her last night off and though it was very late, Apollo had grown accustomed to these late-night/early-morning potty sessions. The insistent whining and scratching wouldn't cease until she acknowledged him.

At least it wasn't raining tonight.

She sits in her usual spot on the steps, dressed comfortably in a hoodie with leggings. Her toes twiddle in her bright pink socks, slotted into her NIKE slides and the handle of Apollo's leash is trapped semi-securely between her knees. The wire on the extended leash shakes with every movement but it does distract her one bit.

In her lap lays her sketchbook, a larger and less paper-cut-prone one. Her charcoal pencil scratches against the white paper and her mind is blank, apart from her task.

Eyes.
Deep and focused.
Innocent and telling, yet mysterious at the same time. Their darkness was as captivating as they were intimidating, making them nearly impossible to look away from or forget.

She couldn't get them out of her head. Of all the strangers she encountered daily and nightly living in a sleepless city, there was something about that man from Gerald's.

Several somethings.

Her brow furrows with focus and her bottom lip tucks between her teeth as she shaded the curve of an iris. Seeming satisfied with her sketch, she blows away the dusted charcoal and leans away slightly to examine it.

"Hmm..." she sighs, frowning at the sketch with disdain. It wasn't bad for it to be straight from her memory but it was unsettling to look at for too long.

Mainly because she felt silly doing it. How old was she? 11? So captivated by someone she didn't even know and fixated on the smallest details of their attractive features. Drawing a stranger off of one brief encounter. Emphasis on brief. She didn't even know his name.

She scoffs at herself humorously and shakes her head before flipping the cover over the sketch to close the book.

Meanwhile, Apollo had just finished a glorious poop near his favorite tree and Deja is just about to stand to collect it. She rises from the step, leash handle still trapped between her knees, and she reaches into the front pocket of her hoodie to pull out a recycled plastic bag to collect the poop.

Yay.

"Good boy Pollo...." She mutters the praise sleepily.

Her sketchbook is tucked under her armpit and she descends the steps purposefully. Apollo stands there waiting for her, happily wagging his tail as she approached.

"Watching me pick up yo shit really gets you going, huh?" She snickers bitterly and Apollo's tail only wags faster, making her roll her eyes.

"You're lucky you're so cute." She states, bending down with the bag covering her hand. As she's. reaching for the little turds, Apollo's wagging ceases when something catches his attention. His head whips in the direction of the alley along the side of the building and a tiny bark puffs through his cheeks.

"Don't start that..." Deja warns as she's tying off the poo bag, leash handle barely in her grasp. He barks again but with more aggression and just before she could secure her grip on the leash handle, Apollo takes off running up the sidewalk.

"Dammit! APOLLO! NO!" She huffs, dashing after him the best she could with her sketch pad still tucked under her elbow.

The plastic leash handle skids and scrapes against the concrete as Apollo ran while barking, putting a significant distance between himself and his owner.

"Apollo! No! Come here!" Deja yells out pitifully from behind him, both still heading up their block until the rambunctious pup turns the corner.

"Fuck.." Deja huffs, picking up her pace the best she could in slides and praying that her dog wouldn't be halfway down the street by the time she got there. When his barking ceases, her heart drops and she rushes ahead to turn the corner.

Once at the curve, she halts her steps suddenly at the sight of Apollo planted some feet away with his hackles standing on end. His head is low and his teeth bared aggressively as he growled cautiously at someone in the distance.

Deja glances up, finding nothing but empty sidewalk and the headlights of cars turning down the one-way street. She frowns as she approached him, huffing from her sudden sprint and frustration.

"Boy....what is wrong with you?" She scolds breathily, bending down to scoop him up and hike him up high against her hip.

"Got me out here running and looking crazy..." she continues.

Just then, a chilled breeze flows past her face that makes her shiver, and her eyes lift casually as she's about to turn when...

"Oh wow...." A voice from up ahead halts her and summons her gaze in the direction of a woman stepping forward.

"..the hell..." she murmurs, scanning the streets and sidewalk that were empty just a few seconds ago.

Her scowl melts a little as the woman steps forward and Deja can't help but fall into her daunting appearance.

Her heels clicked against the sidewalk and there was a sultry sway in her step that has Deja scanning her body, starting at her expensive calf hugging leather boots that stop below her knees to the blue denim that seems painted onto her voluptuous thighs.

The curve of her hips guides her eyes up her torso, wrapped in a white fitted top beneath a long open coat that's a similar shade to this attractive stranger's irises.

A dazzling grey that has Deja blinking in wonder the closer the woman gets. Her dark ebony hair has a voluminous wave, cut in a sexy asymmetric bob that stops a few inches below her chin.

Stopping right in front of her, the woman smirks down at Apollo with a lifted brow and Apollo's tiny growl of defiance melts into a strained whine of intimidation.

"Hmm...cute puppy." She remarks casually, her voice sounding like butter.

She then looks up and locks her wildly enchanting eyes with Deja's, flashing the most perfect set of teeth she'd ever seen.

"You on the other hand...are stunning."