Her face didn't hurt anymore and her broken bones were mended, but her ego still suffered. (...Invictus, which --as you know-- derives from invicta, "the unconquerable" or "the unconquered"...) Her Beast raged - she used most of her Vitae to fix what the prince had broken and now she was hungry, almost starving.

She kept the Beast under her control (if barely so), while she looked out for her prey. There was a club down the street and in front of it stood around a dozen people, waiting to get in. Most of them looked outright hideous or simply terribly dressed, but Aimée wasn't really picky tonight. She went to one of the clubbers, put on her seductive smile and wispered into his ear. "Do you want to have a real party?" That's all it took, he was hers. Without noticing his cheering friends she pulled him into a dark alley; the human weakness was disgusting - he didn't resist or question her in any way - and she had to muster all her willpower (...the unconquerable...) not to rip that loser's throat open right now.
That guy - some sort of gothic or punk - didn't know what to do right now and Aimée wondered whether he had been with a woman ever before. His incompetence made fueled the fire inside her and she took the lead, pushed her fangs inside his neck without any foreplay. The Beast was almost getting out while the blood flowed out and down Aimée's own throat, she was almost overwhelmed by the taste, while his moans grew weaker and weaker.
She forced herself away from him, beating the urge to kill that sorry excuse for a proper living being. He sank down on the ground, unconscious and pale. Kneeling beside him she noticed that he was still alive. Aimée licked his wound and went away without further caring about him. He will probably awaken sooner or later; either way, it wasn't really her problem now.
Her beast was still uneasy, but for now the danger of raging was averted (...the unconquered...); she could go back to more important things again.