Waiting.

It was the agonising part of hunting. Crouched down, unmoving, unseen in the shadows. Feeling rows upon rows of inhuman fangs gnashing deep below the surface in some indescribable part of herself. All of it leading up to the moment for that blood to start flowing and feel that warmth once more, to feel almost alive again. It was that moment Cynthia was looking forward to the most.

But still, she waited.

It was not that surprising it was taking this long. The tattered sleeping back and old, stained blankets were a poor defence against the cold. Hiding behind buildings away from the brunt of the noise only helped a little. She felt a bit of sympathy for the man, even if she had seen this scene so many times. She wondered what got him here. War Vet? Mental Patient? Being gay? The greying hair for some reason made her doubt that last one for some odd reason. Random guesses about her prey's past was all she could do to help keep distracted from the growing calls of her beast, to ignore the gnawing need to grab him now and taste the blood still inside his veins. The growing impatience of his endless tossing and turning was slowly eroding her patience away. C'mon. Why won't you go to fucking sleep you lick?

Then, he stopped turning. Minutes ticked by. Sleep had claimed him finally. Two more minutes of waiting just to make sure. Sloppy feeding on your first time in a new city got the locals to hate you. Not something she could afford to get so early into her time here. Now she started to move for the first time in an hour. Soft steps of her boots slowly creeping towards him, fangs slowly descended from her canines, hands tugging the fabric away that was hiding flesh and blood.

No more waiting. Cynthia and the beast were finally getting their fill tonight