Title: Penultimate 

Drifting into deep space, hyperdrive broken beyond repair, the HMSS Perseverance was no better than inferior scrap metal. 

Three hundred humans in deep, dreamless hypersleep. Most never to awake, nothing to wake for, no one to rescue them. 

They were all his.

It would be a kindness killing them, draining their blood. He hadn't feasted in ages. The odd ship rat, once there was a drunken drifter in a spaceport (not missed by anyone). 

The ship veered closer on his screen... 

Not long now, how I have waited for fresh human blood... 

He'd wake a few, let them slowly realise how hopeless their situation was. How futile it all was, then he would strike. Laced with fear and despair, blood always tasted better. 

******** 

She laid in the sleep pod, serene, saintly, an angel. Not for much longer. He laughs and presses the activate button. 

Eyes flutter open, she raises a smile on her face. 

His fangs bared, ready to strike, he cannot wait for the persuit. 

Hands round his neck. Her angelic smile matches his own. 

He didn't think, he thought he was the last one. 

"They are all mine." She says and twists his head. 

Dust explodes around her. 

(Note: Entry for the Wattvampires 2017 summer challenge)