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Kolasis (vampire!Megan x Daniela) - Chapter 2

Words - 19.6k Content warnings: dubcon, horror, violence, strong language, sexual themes, psychosexual drama

Playing from the boudoir: Lose My Breath - my bloody valentine

Megan found it hard enough to hide her vampirism from her other members, through endless schedules, performances and interviews. She found it even harder to control her bloodlust when she hadn’t fed in a week and a half, and her self-restraint was starting to wear thin. Daniela noticed: she always did. Something was wrong with Megan, and she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to find out what. Maybe she cared too much - it wasn't something she could admit to the girl.

The streetlights flashed by like a blinker in the twilight as Katseye’s van traversed the roads of Santa Monica, navigating its way toward the HYBE offices stationed there; the location of this “urgent” meeting that called for the girls to be up at such an ungodly hour. The girls had already been travelling for close to an hour, and it clearly showed in the vulgar expletives that had left the mouths of each member on the road. Even in the dusty darkness of the early morn, there was no silence for these girls – there never was. None of the six of them could sit silent for a prolonged period when they were all present; always a joke or a story leaving one of their mouths. In situations like this, it served as a buffer for the tiredness that hazed over each of their eyes. Even if the girls didn’t particularly feel like chatting, they always made an effort to uplift the morale of the group. These early mornings were never a great start; all the girls could feel the ache of exhaustion in their bones by the time it got to midday practices or vocal lessons or worse, interviews and performances. There was a reason that they all drank so much damn caffeine. The only upside of these strenuous schedules and long days was that they had each other; they helped prop each other up through the gruelling, never-ending slog of show business. Today was no exception; Daniela and Manon, who were sitting in the front seats of the back of the van, separated from the driver by a partition, were currently engaged in a heated, rather hushed debate on whether you are meant to brush your teeth before or after you shower. A string of “Before” and “No, after!”’s came out of their mouths, Manon steadfastly taking the side of after, and Daniela taking the strong stance of before. It was such a comically absurd argument to the other girls, each of them watching with cheeky grins plastered on their faces through tired eyes. This was what they were best at, fallacious hypotheticals and “yes-and”’s. Everyone seemed to be enthralled, putting their own two pence into the fray – everyone, excluding Megan. She was sitting in the back corner seat, knees brought to her chin, and her face turned to the tinted window, staring at the passing scenery of stretched highways and dull roadlights. She didn’t feel like partaking in the chaos currently unravelling in front of her, especially after the morning she had experienced. She sank into the familiar feeling of comfort that she felt around her members, letting it warm her and letting their laughs cuddle up inside her chest like a sleeping kitten, hoping it would distract her from thinking of the failed hunt from an hour ago.

Her mind wandered as lights flew past the window and the odd car overtook them, patterns of thinking intersecting and winding into a single path, a path she knew well, as the streetlights lit up her face in soft, timed strobes. Thoughts of schedules, appearances and performances flashing through her mind like a perfectly wound VHS, waiting to be inserted and played for the umpteenth time. Chatter continued in the van, and unsurprisingly, Megan’s train of thought converged on one line of thinking, focused on the group’s resident dancer, who was currently in the middle of an exposition on exactly why it’s “so fucking weird” to brush your teeth after a shower. Her words and the chorus of interjections afterwards were background noise to Megan, as her mind became all but lost on the conversation happening in front of her. The attention she paid to Daniela’s charming voice and animated timbre dragged her into something of a daydream. It was like her voice was a siren song, leading her to sea to drown her in the vastness of nothing but her, her body, her mind, her soul. Daniela was frequently at the epicentre of her daydreams these days, and she happened to find herself drifting into them more than she would like to admit as of recently. A guilty pleasure that she kept gripped to her chest, clinging to it as if it were a part of her being. It was always the same situation; it would open with the Latina and herself lying together, cuddling on a couch – every time it was such an angelically domestic situation. Skin to skin. Hushed, languid conversation, praises slipping between the two like a secret, as if speaking it too loudly would shatter the perfect scene into pieces. It felt as if time didn’t exist there, that they could just stay there forever in each other's arms. And the sweet talk, so full of reverence for each other, felt like whispering worship to a long-forgotten god of no name.

Nothing but the deepest form of connection and intimacy between two bodies that couldn’t house the overwhelming amount of love they had in their chests. A mess of limbs and warm hearts. Almost a holy place, a meeting of her and a divine being, an entity worthy of worship and adoration. If she could, she would stay in that daydream, glorifying Daniela’s form and person like she was studying a scripture. So serene, so peaceful, as if she could gain absolution from Daniela’s kind eyes and sweet smile. Like if she prayed enough to her new god, she would take away the pain and suffering, dissolve all negativity with a swish of her hair, and unto her arms she would find salvation. She could imagine the scene perfectly; her hands clasped around Daniela’s waist as the woman curled into her, chest to back. She could feel her heartbeat in her chest, whispering to her like a hymn she finally knew the true meaning of. She could smell the scent of teakwood and lavender and jasmine aerating through the homey abode, further releasing any tension from her body, making her melt into the sweet embrace of her lover. Megan’s chin was tucked into Daniela’s shoulder, a sleepy paradise surrounded by warm throws and intoxicating admiration. Devotion. She could perfectly envision Daniela’s lashes beating on her cheeks, their fluttering shadow landing over soft skin. Her dark eyes lazily looking down at their entwined fingers. Every time started like this, a mental painting that caused Megan’s heart to swell in her chest. Daniela’s voice would echo through her mind, hallucinations of her tone whispering “I love you, mi alma. You are everything I’ve ever wanted” These words would play in her head like a zoetrope, attaching to her heart and fusing to her soul. It was an inescapable pleasure, one that she would happily submit to; how would it feel for her to be loved like that? To be touched and praised like that? It was always the same thought process. But, as all good things come to an end, so does the façade. It always ended in the same way, the flicker of unity and perfection dissipating like a plunge into freezing water.

The angelic light of the room warped, switching like a light had been flipped. The room would transform before her eyes, warmth, serenity and a sense of satisfaction that bore deep into her soul distorted into monstrosity, a haunting hue of blood cascading over the area, as if all of the peace and humanity had been sucked out of the room. Soft, plush beige rugs disappeared, and the sand-coloured walls seemed to wilt, like the paint and wallpaper were disintegrating into a state of severe dereliction. The beautiful lighting, so vibrant and homey, switched from warm, secure hues of yellow and gold to a sanguine tint, chilling to the bone, yet it spoke to a deeply instinctual part of her. A part of her that she sometimes wished she could abandon in those moments. The security felt in that mirage disintegrated into a pit of hollowness like a hole had been bored into her stomach, as the furniture now morphed from a lush, comfy settee to a ragged, decrepit skeleton of rotting wood and moth-holed, stained burlap. The room landed somewhere on the verge of the set of a snuff film, yet underneath its sinful exterior, a layer existed even more sinister underneath, something otherworldly, filthy and grotesque. The space bared a sustenance so intrinsically inhuman; something that left so off, so merciless in its foreignness, like a morbid painting from the recesses of a truly unhinged mind. Some foundations of the room crumbled from the existing wall to reveal a layer of severely rusted metal, which looked ragged, flaky and damp; tetanus waiting to happen. Seeping through the cracks of the decimated drywall that still stood, fleshy, abnormal tissue invaded through like an uncontainable fungus, infecting the area like a plague. These tumours pulsated and squelched, a nauseating sight of taut, thin skin and repulsive fatty deposits underneath, looking like they would burst in an abominable mess. Other holes in the walls seemingly led to nothingness, an unending black surrounding the room like a sick abductor, an omnipotent tormentor. Metallic sounds ground and roared in the background, the clang of heavy machinery settling outside the walls like a lament, heavy and stressful. There was a pulsing warmth in that space, a humidity that felt so oppressive and moist that it felt like being captive inside the chest cavity of a dying animal. Like clothes stuck to your back from sweat. And the smell; a mixture between wet rust, teeth-chitteringly strong to the point of tasting the irony tang on your tongue, and the smell of flesh, both alive and starting to decay. There was a strange scent that wafted through the room, the scent of iron sticking to her teeth and the pungent smell of death and decomposition settling, swirling around like something you can’t escape from. And in the centre of it all, all of the gratuitous horror, sat beautiful, perfect Daniela.

Her face had paled from the lovestruck, tranquil smile that had previously veiled her features to a wet-eyed, petrified grimace. Shock stained her usually pristine features, face contorted in abject terror in a way that induced a sense of stomach-churning nausea – a true, primal level of fear that most humans never got the displeasure of experiencing. Her body was flattened against the couch, prone against it like she was trying to escape through the stained crevices and rotten holes to a place of hypothetical safety beyond them, like there was a way back to heaven through the bottom of the furniture. Every muscle in her body was tense, almost frozen in place, as if moving in any direction other than where she cowered further would cause her unfathomable suffering. Her skin had blanched under the ruby, gluttonous shade that had overtaken the scene, and Megan could never forget the way Daniela looked at her in that moment; she wouldn’t want to. She wanted a snapshot of that martyred face in her dreams for the rest of her life – there was something so wickedly erotic about the girl she liked looking at her with true, heart-wringing fear. It haunted her like a spirit tethered to a place of grief. In this dream scenario, the stomach-curdling horror she felt in her abdomen didn’t exist. She wasn’t fearful of her reputation, of repercussions, of anything. Only a psychopathic, euphoric glee as her eyes bored into Daniela’s face. She had no idea what she looked like to the girl, but it couldn’t have been anything short of nightmare-inducing, given the trembling that overtook the dancer’s body and the shaky, nail-digging grip she had on the couch, grasping at anything she could in hopes that it would save her. That it would somehow tether her to another plane of existence, far away from the hellscape she found herself in. Megan looked down to hands that shared no semblance to her own skinny, long fingers; viciously long, dagger-sharp nails extended from black, ashen hands, tools of massacre highlighted by the shine that slid up the edge of each nail. They felt familiar in a way that Megan couldn’t place, like they were something she had already seen a million times, like those hands were an old friend. Those hands turned out to be replacements for her own, as one made its way toward her tormentee in a greedy, possessive manner. Her gut positively flipped at the vision, and the arousal woke in her system, warmth rising in her abdomen and spreading through her groin as she grabbed the face of the girl, whose mouth was now agape in a soundless scream; nothing falling past her lips as they quivered in fear.

Megan lapped up that horror-filled look, drinking it in as if it were water and she hadn’t had a drop in days. With gritted teeth, she’d twist the head of the girl, hand stretched across her jaw, causing a yelp to explode from the dancer’s chest as tears started to prick at her eyes. Her face was pressed against the side of the rotted couch, cheek smushed against the rough, nasty-looking fabric. Sobs poured past her lips in multitudes, tears starting to seep into the couch and down her other cheek in a slim, clear stream, causing a throb to shoot down into Megan’s core, a beautifully erotic scene unfolding in front of her eyes. She had always had a thing for tears. This was her sweet, erogenous nightmare, and every time this daydream played out, she couldn’t help how intensely turned on she would get, but this coincided with shame that crawled into her chest, curling in on itself and settling just below her heart. She knew it was wrong, so taboo and interdicted, yet she just couldn’t help the wash of sexual arousal that flowed through her veins at the vision of her member sobbing in dismayed indignation at the realisation of the demon that crouched above her. Her hand, which was grabbing Daniela’s face, would move, trailing down her torso with languid conviction as a razor-sharp nail sliced a scorched path from her collarbone down to her navel, easily slicing through her light tank top with no resistance and leaving an angry, ragged laceration ornamenting her pale flesh. The sliced skin would bleed lightly, perfectly circular drips of blood forming over the torn skin in a dazzling array, like a flower blooming in the late spring. And oh, how Megan revelled in it, taking her thumb and smearing some of it over the girl’s now bare bosom, right at her sternum. The dark liquid painted over skin speckled with horripilation, and the stain that it left resembled a red spider lily, beautiful and metaphoric in its presentation. The rush of the vision was so euphoric that it felt like she was entering into a pleasure-induced haze. A dark, honey-dipped voice cut through the clanking sounds and sobs, much different from her own, and it spoke with audacious, callous regard, directed toward the girl below her. “Be a good girl, and let me have my fun” it taunted, and she watched with a mist of fervour as the clawed hand shifted lover down Daniela’s abdomen, directing down to the grey shorts she had clinging to her thighs, wet with anxious perspiration. Her member’s face was now contorted into a spectacle of misery, tears streaming down her face so viscously that it could be mistaken for running water; spit sliding down the edges of her mouth as she bellowed and gasped, a mantra of pained, ghostly “please… no”’s leaving her mouth like a chant. This place no longer resembled a chapel of worship for two lovers, it resembled the unrefined mind of a crazed, hysterical, hedonist, a Gehenna of agony.

The room seemed to zoom in on itself, as if it was ebbing and flowing with the emotion of Daniela’s tears, such an unstable plane of existence that even emotion seemed to change the way that it presented itself. Like it was a living, breathing being, and they resided in its belly. The tumorous growths radiated a deep red glow from under varicose veins that scattered the seborrheic surface. The hand that supposedly belonged to Megan reached just under Daniela’s navel, baring its claws once again to slice the only remaining clothing off of Daniela’s body in one fell swoop, the leftover fabric unravelling like a present, exposing beautifully glowing skin. The room seemed to tremble at this point, the exact same way that the dancer was. Her whole being was shaking, trembling like a small earthquake that couldn’t contain its energy – she was likely in a total state of dissociation. Megan’s hands were trembling slightly, too, but for an entirely different reason. The growl that erupted in the room from the sight of Daniela’s nude form, supposedly from the body Megan inhabited in this daydream, was so feral and predatory that it could be imagined coming from a monster; something gargantuan and earth-shakingly powerful. A sound that assumed death and destruction. So ravenous, so menacing that Megan’s real body trembled slightly.

The scene was nearing it’s splatterpunk climax, and Megan knew exactly what was coming, like a freight train slamming down the tracks and she was directly in front of it. Unable to avoid it, even if she tried. And deep down, in the recesses of her mind, she didn’t want to. She wanted to see the end; she wanted to imagine the carnal heat of her actions toward the girl sitting barely meters in front of her. Her breath was ragged, her body reacting almost hypnotically to the scene in her mind, thighs squeezed together in need as her teeth clenched. In the background of her thoughts, she could feel the telltale itch of her gums, this time not just from feral hunger; hunger of a more carnal desire raging through her system. She truly was a sick, gruesome pervert. There was no saving her on that front. The dream-her’s lips curved upwards, tongue brushing against a set of sharp teeth, every tooth in her mouth replaced with edged daggers like a serrated blade, much more deviously dangerous than her normal fangs. She started to inch closer, and if Daniela’s eyes could have opened wider in panic, they would have popped out of their sockets entirely. The dancer’s breathing hitched, stopping completely, as if her silence would make her disappear; a prey tactic that small animals use to play dead. The thought of escape made Megan chuckle in her mind; Daniela’s predator was directly on top of her, and there was nowhere to run nor hide. A gulp landed town Daniela’s throat, her neck bobbing between strained muscles as a single drop of sweat slid down her jugular, and that’s when Megan couldn’t restrain herself from her prize anymore. She leaned in, barely an inch between their faces; she could see each minuscule pore that decorated Daniela’s skin, how salty, wet tears gathered in her tear ducts, how her pupils had blown to nearly cover her entire iris.

The vampire’s hand hovered at the junction of Daniela’s navel and her pubic bone, sat there like a deadly reminder, nails taut against skin the way a gun’s hammer is pulled taut before firing. Megan’s tongue darted out between her sharp teeth, meeting the drop of sweat which had rolled down to Daniela’s collarbone, and the purely sinful moan that erupted from her mouth as she licked her way up was so deliciously debaucherous that her eyes rolled back into her head. Daniela’s pulse hammered underneath her mouth, so quickly that it felt like a constant hum, unidentifiable from the noise coming from her own body. Her tongue traced a hot, steamy line up the side of Daniela’s neck, and as it travelled up the side of her face, sweeping up the salty taste of tears, her hand shifted, making the shape of a crane’s head, like the head of a pickaxe. Nails converged into one united, deadly blade, which pointed directly at the woman’s bowels. Megan’s face pulled back slightly, eyes meeting her victims in close quarters, so close that her breath beat off of Daniela’s face. So close that their noses brushed. Daniela’s eyes stared into Megan’s, cloudy with tears and deep within those irises, Megan could see the emotions swirling within. Betrayal. Suffering. Panic. And most of all, a deep, all-encompassing despair, so bitter she could taste it along with her savoury skin. In that moment, time stilled, and their eyes searched into each other’s, tension so high that it felt like a drawn arrow, ready to strike its target at the flick of a finger. Hunter and prey. Checkmate. And as her hand surged forward, beginning to pierce through soft skin, Daniela’s scream starting to claw the metal walls, a sound rang through the blurry façade of the daydream. A sound that didn’t fit the space at all.

“Megan!” A voice rang in her ears, and suddenly, like her soul was sucked back into her body, she jolted, startled into her surroundings at the loud sound. “Hello? Anyone there?” The voice questioned, and as her vision had wormholed from fantasy to reality, she was shot back into the inside of the van. Her roommate Lara was staring at her, an edge of concern painted over flawless dark features, a hand waving in front of her face to capture her attention. Megan caught her eyes behind those waving fingers, and looked around the van, trying to grasp her surroundings once more, realising that the van door was now open and the seats were now vacant, excluding herself and the Indian woman before her. She hadn’t realised how deep in her daydream that she had been, to be completely detached from reality that harshly and then pulled back in like a yo-yo. It was jarring for the first second or two, shades of violence and fear melting into the cosy interior of the dark coloured van interior. She was still in her original position, body curled up in on itself, but she could feel the effect that the daydream had on her body as her breathing was unsteady, her thighs clamped together, and she could feel the damp warmth that had pooled between her thighs. “Shit, s-sorry… I was in a world of my own there” Megan laughed awkwardly, her voice coming out airy and with a shaky quality to it. Lara’s eyebrow raised, watching the girl with a bemused stare, considering whether she wanted to interrogate the girl further. Realising that there was no time to do so, and that the girls were waiting outside the van, Lara shook her head with a humourless chuckle. “Okay dreamergirl, we’d better go inside before Sophia blows a gasket” She said offhandedly, already turning round to step out of the door of the van.

Megan snapped herself out of her stupor, heat rising in her face at the fact she had been so enamoured by her daydream that she had forgotten about where she was, who she was with and worse, the meeting they were about to attend. She jolted out of her seat with energy, hand deftly unlocking her seatbelt as she struggled out of the van to the inquisitive stares of 5 women. “What is taki- Megan! Let’s go! We have t-minus 2 minutes before tsar bomb Sophia explodes” Manon joked, watching Megan stumble out of the van with unsteady feet, like a newborn deer. She slid up beside the girl, linking their arms together as the rest of the group started to move in unison towards the large front doors of the building, casual conversation batting between them as they questioned what could possibly warrant a meeting so early in the morning; in jest of that a safety meeting of all things. “Maybe World War Three was announced?” Yoonchae quipped, a lazy smile on her face and an arm linked with a stressed-looking Sophia. “Even if it was, why do we have to hear about it before a full night’s sleep?” Daniela groaned, much to the amused agreement of the group, along with a few nods and hums of petty concurrence. Megan laughed along, trying to stay connected to the group atmosphere, though it was proving to be an adjustment from her previous state. “My bet is on a supervillain taking over Los Angeles, I mean it wouldn’t be that surprising with some of the characters living there” She hopefully jested, a chuckle shooting from Lara’s lips and by extension Daniela’s too. She hoped that at least a joke or two on her side would keep her from seeming distracted, even though that’s exactly what she was – her mind was a million miles away from their current errand. Lara and Daniela picked up on her joke she had made and continued to drag the hypothetical out some more to encourage some laughter from the girls, much to Megan’s appreciation.

The two girls were seen as the mood lifters of the group, and everyone was thankful for that. Lara and Daniela volleyed off of each other so well that, often, the two would be seen chuckling at anything and everything. They were known by the girls for being the most childish and petty together, giggling like schoolgirls at the most inopportune moments and making what would only be described as schoolyard pranks toward the group and their staff. Usually, this was a result of their partner in crime Manon’s outrageous antics – the girls had dubbed the three of them ‘dumb, dumber and dumbest’ because if they were in the correct mood, no work was getting done, much to the amused annoyance of the rest of them and the frustration of their manager. Even on the bad days, the three of them would team up to lift morale through the strangest avenues: food fights, huge pillow forts in the living room, turning their kitchen into MasterChef for a night, and even going as far as to re-enact a Korean drama terribly to cheer up a homesick Yoonchae. They would never admit it as it would inflate all three of their egos, but every member of Katseye revelled in the stupid antics brought around by the trio, and nearly every time they were all roped into a tennis game of inspired what-ifs, impromptu trips and general tomfoolery.

The sound of laughter and jesting continued as the group entered the front doors of the HYBE offices, which were already whirring with the distant sounds of conference calls, rushed steps and general calamity; a normal day in the HYBE offices. They collectively made a beeline through the large reception foyer, all brightly lit and ornate in contemporary design, with concrete backdrops and beautiful metal ornaments lining the walls. Pictures of all the different HYBE groups decorated the foyer, from LE SSERAFIM to ILLIT, and of course, Katseye, showing the sheer scale of success that the company had attained across continents. It made Megan think every time they walked through those doors; it truly was a marvel, how this was their job, to entertain the masses with the backing of a colossal music company. They had won the golden ticket when they had been chosen as the members of Katseye, and it showed through the perks of working for a company worth $8 billion. Something that they were all eternally grateful for – the platform to do what they loved, and to create something beautiful that would resonate with people all across the globe and to have the budget to do it in any way they wished. All of the members had their favourite areas of the job; their passions such as Lara’s being producing and Daniela’s being dancing, but the one thing that they all converged on and agreed on wholeheartedly was their passion for music and performing, and their love for each other, for the group, and for the fans. That was what made them work, like a well-oiled machine, each cog fitting perfectly between the next. Each of them would tell anyone that asked that they were in it because they had each other, and they all had the same burning passion within them to create, to hone and to deliver. As they all slinked past the reception desk, between the nonsensical humour and attempt to keep group morale up this early in the morning, there was a slight spark of unease that settled between the girls; barely tangible but still existing, like a low fog in a swamp that wrapped around your ankles. None of them could fathom what this meeting was about, especially given the promptness of the summoning and it being so last minute; the word ‘safety’ was a cause for concern in the midst of the confusion. They never got called in like this unless something catastrophic had occurred like a scandal or leaked information about the group. In fact, they had never had a meeting called like this specifically, not for the reason they had given over the phone. There seemed to be a silent understanding between the girls, though, that letting that nervous energy spill over into the team’s dynamic was going to do nobody any good. And so, they would deal with the issue at hand when it was presented to them, and until then they wouldn’t waste energy trying to decipher something they had no clues to chase with. At least, they would try their best.

Having made it to the doors of the elevators at the back of the foyer, both Manon and Yoonchae reached for the call button, Yoonchae playfully shoving Manon out of the way to claim victory over the act. Manon let out an facetious chuckle, face screwed up in mock irritation. “Dude, it is NOT that serious” Manon jokingly jibed, a hand reaching toward her shoulder as if the girl had punched her where she had been shoved. Rubbing the affected area over her clothes, Manon pulled a theatrically staged frown, resembling something closer to a tragedy mask than a real expression, fake yelping in pain. “I can’t believe you’d be so cruel, abusing your elder like that! Sophia, control your kid!” She fussed, childishly pointing at Yoonchae whilst looking at Sophia. Yoonchae watched manon’s puerile display with regalement, spitting out a poorly contained titter as the girls watched on. Sophia’s eyes couldn’t have rolled into the back of her head with more force if she tried, though the ghost of a twinkle on her lips which foiled her ill-attempted masquerade of displeasure. “Right, enough children, it’s too early for this” Sophia spoke, the last part of her sentence more a lamentation to herself as she rose her hands in front of her in a passive, ‘stop’ motion with both hands. “Stop the violence. World peace” This inflection only caused the group to open into a chorus of cackling, and Sophia to deflate; there was no getting them to listen at the best of times. A haggard expression printed over her features, like a true overworked and underappreciated mother; which is exactly what it felt like being the leader of a gaggle of unstable, chaotic women. The Katseye members continued giggling and wisecracking as the elevator doors pinged open, each of them making their way into the enclosed box one by one. It wasn’t the smallest elevator in the world, but it was slightly cramped for 6 people. Megan was one of the first to make it into the elevator, landing in the back corner surrounded by Daniela to her left and Lara in front. “It’s floor 13” Sophia stated, motioning for Manon to press the corresponding button.

The little room afforded to them in this elevator meant that when Manon went to press the button, she ended up elbowing Sophia slightly, which led to a hurried mutter of an apology as Sophia giggled. It wasn’t a drastically tight squeeze for Megan in the back corner, but there certainly wasn’t much arm room; she could practically feel Daniela’s breath pass by her and see the hairs on the back of Lara’s neck under her bun as she was barely a ruler’s length away from it. Unfortunately for the vampire, though, she could also hear everyone’s heartbeat in their chests because of the close proximity. At a good time, she could will herself to ignore the beat and distract herself, sometimes not even having to think about it. Today though, that didn’t seem to be a possibility, and she was hyperaware of the unique sound of each of her members hearts. She could hear the slight anxious tension in Sophia’s pulse; ever the worrier of the group since her position of leader carried so much responsibility. Out of everyone, Sophia’s heart was the one that always beat the fastest – Megan was aware of the chronic stress that the Filipina was under. She could hear that twinge of anxiety emanating from the others on top of it, too, like a building symphony with each layer adding on after a bar – their hearts were all faster than normal and escalating as the elevator rose from the ground.

There was such a fascinating lure to Megan when she heard someone’s blood pump and course through them, a soul bearing quality that spoke to Megan’s instincts. She could hear the almost hollow pump of anxiety, or the raging flow of anger. The slow creep of jealousy, the rush of joy; it was all laid bare for her to hear and decipher. Sure, the speed of someone’s pulse gave away a lot, but there was an innate understanding that she had found vampires had of a loved one’s feelings. If they had a strong bond with a person, the vampire would unlock a cardinal ability to easily decipher that person’s true emotions if they focused on them; like holding a key to their souls that traversed into the corners and cracks that person may not have even been privy to. She had always been seen as perceptive by the others; easily able to read the vibe of a room and plan accordingly. People always felt comfortable in her presence and often confided in her about problems which didn’t involve her. This power was her little trick to being able to sense even the smallest emotional changes in her friends. Megan tended to try and not use it on them out of respect for that person’s privacy, however from time to time she would get a little curious. There was, however, a downside to this ability – no power was without its drawbacks. It was as if the ability was truly controlled by the participant. If the person was so unwilling to share their emotions to the point of shutting someone out or pushing them away, it put up a type of emotional barrier that denied her ability to deduce that person’s feelings, like an iron curtain over that person’s soul. She hadn’t experienced the phenomenon many times, but as a child, her mother had shown her as one of many lessons, something that she needed to understand as she grew up and went out into the real world as a non-human.

The elevator ride was over quickly enough but given the slowly creeping nervous atmosphere that was forming between the group, it felt like time was sloughing along at a snail’s pace. Megan was acutely aware of Daniela’s presence, the close contact with the dancer made Megan’s throat bob, torso rising and falling slightly as her eyes subconsciously drifted beside her. Her eyes rested on her neck, which was barely uncovered by her hoodie, but enough skin was shown that it could tempt the Chinese girl. Megan’s tongue darted out from her mouth to lick at suddenly dry feeling lips, and she couldn’t help herself but stare for a second at the short expanse of Daniela’s smooth skin. She seemed to zone out for a moment as she looked, steeled self-control slipping just for a moment as she eyed the girl’s beautifully smooth neck with a less-than-friendly gaze. It was becoming a serious problem that she was loosening her grip on her actions bit by bit; seemingly willing to risk cover for consequences she would have a hard time explaining away. Someone was going to notice at some point and ask questions. That self-control slammed back into her consciousness as she heard the elevator’s chime, the sound letting them know they had reached their destination. Catching herself in the act, she hoped and prayed that the eyes that stalled at the woman’s neck went unnoticed by the dancer. It wasn’t the biggest of actions by a long shot, but it was close quarters, and anything that could possibly give her away was something that Megan had to be thoughtful of. Likely, it would’ve been mistaken for tiredness or just zoning out; a habit she has picked up in earnest over the last week. At least she could pass it off as such if it was noticed; not that anyone bar Daniela would have, given her place at the back of the elevator. It seemed that the action had slid by, and that Daniela was completely oblivious, having been staring at the floor the entire time. Looking at Dani’s neck was a habit that Megan couldn’t shake recently, it happened naturally over time of being around the girl, and outwith her better judgment, she would catch her eyes flickering to the spot often enough. It was a miracle that Daniela hadn’t noticed so far. She also didn’t share this habit with any of the other girls, only the Latina. The picture of her pristine, beautiful smooth neck caused a flicker of Megan’s earlier rather vivid daydream to flash before her eyes. She shook off the scene as soon as it appeared as she attempted to recollected herself and ready her mind for the quickly approaching meeting, a slight blush gracing her cheeks as she bore her eyes to the back of Lara’s head and kept them there. It was such a subconscious action and so quick, like checking a phone for a text, that it was slightly embarrassing to her pride. She would have laughed to herself if she were alone. Mere hours ago, she stomped some guy’s head into the wet pavement so viciously that he looked like his head had been split open with a spiked mace, yet here she is blushing because of the chance that her member saw her quickly glance at her neck. Her sense of morality really was a joke in itself.

As the girls filed out of the elevator and entered into a straight, brightly lit hall which seemed to stretch long and far, they fell into silence. This was usually the case when it came to any meetings they had to attend; it was important that they were as professional as they could be and that they listened to what was being said. It was a sign of respect more than anything; no messing around and no tomfoolery, as if they started any of their shenanigans, they could expect that management wouldn’t find it anywhere near entertaining. They reached the door that they were looking for, Meeting Room 13B, engraved into a metal plate which was fastened to the wall next to a closed door, dark oak. Reaching for the silver doorknob, Sophia unlocked it with a clink and walked through the threshold of the conference room, the other girls closely in tow with neutral faces. They hadn’t known what to expect other than management being present, yet there, sitting at one of the conference chairs, was a rather burly-looking man that it seemed none of the girls had seen before, kitted out in a tight-fitting black suit and matching tie, a white pocket square poking out from the chest pocket. He seemed to nearly burst out of his clothes from his sheer mass, large muscles straining the ungiving, sturdy fabric. Though his suit was the object of luxury as told by the perfect stitching and clear use of expensive hand-dyed wool, the man looked rugged, like he had lived a long and arduous life, his face rough with stubble and a short crew cut on his head. There was the unmistakable puckering and whiteness of a scar on his outer lip, one that seemed to wrap around his cheek in a grittily extended smile. If anything, it made him look substantially more menacing and steeled than he already looked. In certain terms, he looked intimidating, with sharp, watching eyes that seemed to notice every detail of the girls and the room as they walked through the door, his arms crossed in apparent focus on his surroundings.

Sat beside him was their manager, a direct parallel to the unknown man; a much skinnier, mid-40s guy with a perfectly styled coif and baggier clothing that exuded a certain level of luxury and financial comfort – t-shirt adorned with some sort of designer label that looked like it cost a month’s paycheck. The girls got along with their manager fine, but it was apparent to all that he cared about appearances more than anything, and this tended to bleed onto their meetings and what was asked of the group. Charm hidden behind dollar bills. “Come in ladies, please, take a seat” He spoke politely, not quite warm but professional and inviting to a degree, pointing to the chairs that sat out on the other side of the conference table, already pulled out. It was clear that the man was tired; anyone would be at this time in the morning, but his tiredness seemed to linger further, like the exhaustion had dug into his bones and made a home there. It made sense, the man was constantly busy with meetings and proposals and ironing out details for Katseye’s image and brand. Bags tugged at his lower lash line, blotches of greys and blues and browns shadowing the area under his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept for a good couple of days; he probably hadn’t. Each girl gave a polite greeting back to the two men and walked toward the other side of the conference table to sit themselves. This happened in suffocating silence, nobody wanting to speak out of turn or to jump the gun in the tense exchange of no words. Megan looked over the unknown man, assessing him as a possible threat in the back of her mind, filed away as “keep an eye on him, those fists could do some real damage”. He was a mountain of a man, and though she was supernaturally strong, he could actually hurt her a little if given the opportunity.

The group gave their manager and the stern-looking man a polite, welcoming smile, patiently waiting for one of them to put their minds at rest and start the meeting. Megan sat at the farthest end of the table, with Lara sitting beside her, then Sophia, Daniela, Manon and Yoonchae sitting at the other end. still within good earshot of the meeting holders, without being the centre of attention, nor in a position she was likely to be asked any probing questions; they would likely direct those at the girls in the middle. Not that Megan would struggle to hear them, even if she was outside the room, she would be able to hear the intake of breath before the start of a sentence if she listened. Megan’s eyes were still trained on the mystery man, as were everyone else’s. She didn’t like the idea of the inclusion of this no-nonsense thug in their meeting, and it made her mind ponder on the possibilities of why he could be here, why this meeting was being called, and why there was a pointedly stressed look on their manager’s face. The atmosphere wasn’t quite icy, but it was tense and uncomfortable; it did not bode well for all of their nerves, and she had a nauseous feeling creeping up her stomach – it seemed the other girls were just as afflicted, if her hearing had anything to say about it. Now that it was time to figure out what the hell this was all about, Megan decided that it was likely best for her to stay mute for the duration. She wasn’t one to speak out in meetings much anyway; usually that role was left to their leader, who was currently sitting directly across from the two men with an open, sensible expression masked over her features. She would much rather just observe, but she would speak if spoken to and be present. All of the girls sat in their respective chairs, unmoving, waiting for their manager to approach the subject and finally set them free of their anxiety.

The room wasn’t a welcoming space, to say the least, almost clinical in its setting, all shades of light grey and browns; not a speck of anything resembling mess on the surfaces around the room. Barely a speck of dust could be seen floating around, not a mark or scratch or stain on the table or chairs, a completely pristine, unblemished place that looked more like a showroom than an actual space used for meetings. There wasn’t even a distinct smell in the area, as if it had been wiped of any personality or ambience, like it had been snuffed of any identifying features. This was very different from the usual cosy meeting rooms that they attended, places that were much more comfortable and less interrogatory, and it seemed to set the girls on edge more. There was something uncomfortable about sitting somewhere where it seemed like any level of clutter would be seen as a cardinal sin; it gave the impression of perfectly straight posture and formal, intellectual language. The silence in the room was finally broken by the manager coughing to ready his voice to speak. “Firstly, I’d like to apologise for asking you girls to come to a meeting like this so abruptly” The manager sat in the chair rigidly, placing his elbows on the armrests, clasping his hands together. Next to him, the gruff-looking man sat in silence, eyes tracing over each girl and then back to the manager as he spoke again. “This is a subject of sensitive information, and I need you to understand that what is spoken about in this meeting cannot travel past these walls. This is not up for debate, and this includes family as well as friends. Not a word of this is to be even breathed toward anyone not in this room currently” His tone was steel straight, no room for argument, and the girls, including Megan, all hesitantly nodded in agreement to the information. Megan could feel the anxiety now radiating from the others like a wave; she felt it too. Even her manager’s pulse was raised slightly, likely from stress and the supposed gravity of the situation. If things were that serious, of course, it was going to cause everyone to become even more perturbed.

Megan’s eyes darted to the scar-faced man, noticing that his pulse was completely steady. It made sense after all, both his appearance and his temperament seemed to preface a stoic attitude. It was his job to have a cool and unaffected demeanour. “Now that we have that out of the way” Their manager sighed, seemingly attempting to exhale some of the stress in his system. “The reason that this meeting was called was to inform you of some changes that will be affecting your lives. From today onwards, at night, you will have a standby security personnel member parked outside of your house from 9 pm to 6 am every day.” He paused, giving the room a chance to absorb the bomb that he had just dropped on them all. “This is for your safety, and this decision was not made lightly” He remarked, every girl’s face dropping into different shades of perplexity and vexation as they processed the words being said, like a dark cloud forming over the room. Megan tried her best to school her expression, but inside, she felt the burn of white-hot rage reach into her fingertips. “Why would they need security at night and at night alone?” She conjected to herself in an incandescent tone. The agitation that formed in her body made her fingers itch, hands curling in on themselves under the table, fingers picking at the skin of her already raw thumb. If she were to grip the table right now, there was a good chance she would crush the glossed wood into sawdust. If these security people were to be there every night, waiting outside of their house like spies, how was she going to be able to sneak out and eat? It was already a mission in itself - making sure everyone was asleep, being silent enough not to wake anyone, getting out of the house and home undetected, even making sure that the clothes she wore wouldn’t show any blood so she could clean them without suspicion. Adding the impossible issue of night surveillance would be a catastrophic issue. “Maybe I could just kill them? No, that wouldn’t work, too much publicity.” Megan was starting to panic; she could feel it rising in her chest like acid from her stomach. There had to be something she could do, some way to bypass them. If there wasn’t, it was going to lead to disaster.

There had to be a way around it. Her mind was going a million miles a minute behind her mask of concern and fear. Sure, the other girls felt the exact same, so it wasn’t a stretch for her face to show that same emotion; some of that fear was real, and she felt it cerebrally, but for a much different reason. “I’m sorry if I’m interjecting, but why exactly do we need security at night? Do we have a stalker situation or something?” Sophia asked, voice laced with distress and a hint of perplexation, which mirrored the sentiment of the other girls. “No” The manager clarified. “The reason we are putting this in place is because of some information that the police have given to us in confidence. This information has been passed to entertainment companies and celebrities staying in Los Angeles” He paused, turning slightly and directing the attention of the room to the man who had been silent thus far. “This is the head of our security team, Arron, and he will be overseeing this plan to make sure that the house is under surveillance at night, and that there is no danger to you girls’ safety” With a rough breath out, Arron shifted in his seat slightly, his head nodding upwards in a silent greeting to everyone, before readying himself to speak with a cough. “Awright ladies, this is how it’s gonny go. My team ur professionally trained and huv extensive careers in security, so while we are ootside the house, you will have nothin tae worry about” His voice was deep and hoarse, a thick Scottish brogue barrelling out of his mouth, The accent was slightly hard to understand, especially for someone not completely fluent in English like Yoonchae, but it wasn’t difficult enough that everyone was completely stumped on what Arron had said. Sophia turned to Yoonchae, quickly relaying the message in simple terms to keep her in the loop, before turning back to the men in front of her. “Okay, I understand that the situation must be serious, but can you please tell us the details about this? I feel like we are at least owed that.” Sophia inquired, everyone nodding along in conjecture, seemingly becoming more disconcerted as the seconds ticked.

The manager sighed once more, conceding to their wish. The words came out like he was trying to lasso them back into his mouth, clearly reluctant to divulge this information, which Katseye would understand after he spoke. “There has been a string of vicious murders that have happened across LA for the past year, possibly longer.” He paused for a moment, giving everyone but a second to try and process what he had just slapped onto the table. “The police have only recently been able to tie these murders together, but it’s theorised that they are the work of a serial killer…” His words cut through the tension in the air like a knife, and though he continued with his explanation, the rest of his words fell on deaf ears for the vampire sitting frozen still. Megan felt the world come to a screeching halt when she processed what had been said, like she was in a car going 100mph and the brakes were slammed on. They know. Someone out there has started connecting the dots. Why were the police taking this seriously? They never had before. Not during Dream Academy, not even back in Hawai’i. She had never even really thought about the actual consequences of the police being aware of her killings; always having been careful enough to push it to the back of her mind. She had been careful her entire life; she had made sure that wherever she hunted that either the body would never be found again, that they were far apart enough to not be linked, or that they wouldn’t be able to decipher what killed them. Then again, the disfigured mess that she would leave the bodies in on occasion wasn’t the most tactile nor clandestine. Nausea rose up her throat like it was ready to projectile out of her; at that moment, she could have thrown up over the glossed face of the table. Her feet felt a tingly, fresh cold overtake them, almost as if they had ceased to exist for a second, like a phantom pain. At the same time, a roaring chill overtook her bones, causing her to go rigid like she was carved from stone. The fact that they had labelled these as the work of a serial killer was deeply distressing. That meant that she had managed to create a modus operandi for herself, one that was identifiable. She would have to switch up her killing tactics a little more, or better off, widen her radius. She was already giving herself a stress headache, brain seeming to stretch itself every which way without focusing on a singular thought, a cacophony of voices ringing through her head; each one playing on her nerves, her fears, her anger, her dismay, her shock.

“This can’t be happening, this CAN’T be happening” Her subconscious sounded above the howling mess of her psyche, a shibboleth that clawed at her skull. Though her mind was completely elsewhere, she absently heard from the other side of the table “…so we have to be very careful, because given the amount of missing people and bodies that have been found within relative range to your house and around Los Angeles, we have to take these precautions seriously. It might never affect you, but we aren’t willing to take that risk.” Their manager finalised with a dour-faced, enervated look. It was like a blanket of frost had descended over the room; you could feel the disquietude and malaise of the girls radiating outwardly, so loudly it was like it was worming into Megan’s senses. Every single one of them was now deeply frowning, foreheads strained with a crinkle between their eyebrows, all intensely processing the weight of the conversation and how inherently dangerous it was that there was a killer on the loose – and that killer happened to be in their midst. Each member looked like one wrong noise would startle them, that a dropped phone or the door swinging open could cause them to jump out of their skin; an atmosphere that was like a taut wire, waiting to snap. They all reflected that same ghastly visage that Megan did, but their reason was fear for their safety; Megan’s was fear of being caught. They were the prey in the situation – they didn’t know that the wolf in sheep’s clothing was sitting directly next to them. Megan was always adept at schooling her expressions and her actions; she had mastered the craft over the years of concealing her nature and had become a particularly good actor because of it, but right in that moment, she couldn’t bear to hide the horror spread across her features. Thankfully, it seemed to mirror the expressions of her other members adequately enough. “So…” Sophia started, her voice breaking through the all-consuming silence that had taken over the room, voice serious and laced with concern. “Basically, we’ve to stay home at night if we don’t have schedules? And we’ll have security watching outside the house at night?” It was good that she was paying attention to everything that was being said, because it was apparent that the other members were all ruminating, letting their minds run free. Megan looked to her left and saw that each of their expressions was inscrutable, minds entrapped in a cycle of anxious thinking.

“You can leave the house at night, but only in pairs of two. You will also have the security team’s numbers available to you, but I suggest staying inside unless you must go do something. Plan ahead, and be safe” Though the world from their manager attempted to alleviate a little bit of anxiety, it still didn’t change the circumstances, and this would stick with each of them for a while. Megan was attempting to stay present, but was barely aware of what was happening around her, other than what she could see. A static sound was ringing in her ears louder than any voices, and her mouth was dry like a hangover. It was like her whole body had dissociated from where she sat, like her soul had left her body, and she was floating, hollow and aimless. Her mind had seemed to quell its dissonant screaming, but in place of that tangle of emotions and thoughts, a much more terrifying entity had replaced it: nothingness. There was nothing at all in the forefront of her mind, not concern, not anxiety, not despair; a concerning one eighty from minutes ago. It was as if a sweeping apathy had taken over, and though the tips of her fingers were trembling slightly in her lap, she might as well have not noticed it. People were talking around her, Lara seemed to have joined in the conversation with a frown and dark, intense eyes darting from person to person, checking their condition and taking a central place in the discussion. When Sophia, ever the speaker for the group as leader, needed some support in handling a situation, it was usually Lara who accepted the task readily, her easy-going, comforting demeanour a great buffer for any issues that Katseye faced. Right now, though, given the gravity of the change in their schedule and their safety, it was understandable that Lara jumped into the fray to show solidarity and to hopefully give the girls some comfort. She wasn’t the leader, but if Sophia wasn’t around, she could have been. She had the self-assured demeanour, organisational skills and charisma to do the job – which is why she was a great understudy to Sophia’s position. Their conversation continued as Megan sat there, unfocused and spaced out as she looked aimlessly toward the other girls, not even sparing a glance at her manager or at Angus. Everyone else seemed vaguely attached to the conversation, bar herself, and that’s when she noticed expressive amber eyes looking in her direction. They belonged to Daniela, who had veered her head to the side, and was now directly putting her attention on the vampire, with a look of perturbation and worriment, her thick lips curled into a frown. Of course, if anyone was to notice Megan’s mood, it had to be Daniela. Daniela could notice the slightest change in her mood if she wasn’t careful, and right now she wasn’t. It was another worry, how well Daniela could read her when she wasn’t actively putting energy into hiding her true feelings.

In most situations that the girls landed themselves in, they instinctively all looked out for each other, bringing comfort and unity to the plate anytime any of them were upset or seemed off. Like how everyone jumped on Lara for a cuddle pile after she came out, just to keep her mind off of biting comments and scathing homophobia, to let her know that they were all there, all supporting her earnestly. Things typically unfolded like that; they were all very attuned to each other’s emotions, even if, for the most part, those emotions were fictitious on Megan’s behalf. That was not to say she didn’t love them like they were a part of her, like they had attached themselves to her soul, but there were things that she had to hide from them, and so that deep understanding that they all had for each other didn’t extend as deeply to Megan in certain aspects. How could it when they had no idea of the true her, of what she got up to in the night? Of the blood pills she slipped into her morning coffee? Of her deranged, maniacal, sick thoughts? She would rather they never found out. In most cases, she was showing them true emotions, just not the underlying cause, or emotions that would rouse suspicion; she was the perfect member to them, a facet she had honed to perfection: funny, neurotic, always ready to have fun, and a little strange. It was the perfect guise that coalesced parts of her true self and the façade she had created to protect not just herself, but also her groupmates. It didn’t seem to stop Daniela specifically, though, from being able to read her better than the others. It had always been a little unnerving to Megan, how attentive Daniela was to her, even when in a group setting or when she didn’t think anyone was paying attention to her; in dance practices she was the first to check in on her when it seemed she wasn’t mentally present, or after performances when she seemed quieter than usual; even in the living room where her mind may have drifted elsewhere during a movie. That ability seemed to extend to this moment, where she looked into Megan’s eyes with clarity, whispering an “Are you okay?” under the echo of Lara, Sophia and their manager’s conversation. The solicitous comment seemed to shock Megan back into full sentience, bringing her back to her senses like she was sucked out of a bird’s eye view back into her body.

It was evident that Daniela wasn’t absorbed in anything other than Megan’s well-being, as the face that Daniela had seen her make after the news had caused a swell of anxiety in her stomach; the Chinese-Swedish girl looked terrified to her very core. Words flew above the two of them like streamers as the other conversation outside of them continued, their attention more focused on each other. If it wasn’t for the fact that it was the dancer who was divesting her undivided attention toward the vampire in that moment, Megan wouldn’t feel so bare under the amber-eyed beauty’s watchful stare. Daniela swore that she could have seen the beginnings of tears well up in the corner of Megan’s eyes, her face pale and her eyebrows high on her forehead like strings pulled them up. Those beginnings of tears sparkled in the sterilised light like microscopic diamonds. Megan felt them forming before hurriedly blinking them away – she wasn’t going to cry. Daniela was understandably worried about the pink-fringed girl; she looked like she had seen a phantom in the flesh, like there was an unspeakable terror in the corner of the room that nobody else could see. Her shoulders were tensed with anxiety, having edged up to her ears like she was trying to make herself smaller, less perceptible. “I’m fine” Megan dismissively snipped, voice barely above mute, nodding slightly as she detached her gaze from Daniela. She couldn’t keep looking into the dancer’s intense, beautiful eyes for fear that she would see something in them that Megan didn’t want her to. There was such a disarming quality to when Dani stared at Megan; it felt like in that moment, she was about to be stripped bare, cold and vulnerable in that meeting room. It was something Megan needed to avoid, firstly because she couldn’t help the slight blush that would rise on her cheeks when Daniela had her attention so squarely on her, but secondly because she was scared of what she would uncover. None of the other girls’ looks made her feel like that; not Yoonchae, not Manon, not Lara and not Sophia. It was as if Dani had some sort of x-ray in her pupils; she was so perceptive and had such an intense gaze that she wondered if it was just her that felt that way, or if it was everyone that Daniela looked at. Maybe it was, she could be quite the intimidator when she wanted to be, and Megan had seen it first-hand from the number of people, fans and staff alike, that seemed to shudder slightly under her piercing stare. Either way, she didn’t want to find out what would happen if she locked eyes with her for too long – she had spent enough of this morning having to conceal and deflect, and she didn’t have much of it left in her.

The conversation between the more assertive members and management seemed to have drawn to a close in that moment, most of the girls beginning to wedge themselves out of their seats. Both Megan and Daniela startled slightly, having not paid attention to the rest of the meeting. Their manager had already left his seat, with Angus following suit to leave the girls in the conference room on their own. “Stay safe, girls, and remember what I said. Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone else. We don’t need a lawsuit from the police” The manager finalised, and Arron nodded toward them, following suit to leave the room. The sound of a door unlocking and then closing again rang through the room, which was otherwise blanketed in silence. It was almost deafening, clear to all that this wasn’t a moment for brash jokes or for anecdotes about Arron’s accent. Lara had already stepped out of her seat by the time Megan had resituated herself and started to rise, and Lara shot her a worried look. “Megs, you’ve been spacing out a lot. Have you been taking care of yourself? Taking your medication?” The tanned woman asked, clearly deeply concerned for her friend. Megan nodded but didn’t get the chance to rebuke the statement before Lara spoke again. “I know it’s scary, but we’ve got to trust that it won’t affect us. I know your anxiety can get the better of you, but we’ll be okay” In her attempt to try and console Megan’s conceived anxiety, she placed a warm hand on Megan’s shoulder. It was heartwarming to see how much Lara cared about her, but right now, she needed to get out of there, and preferably to somewhere she could be alone for a couple of minutes to decompress from all the shit that had happened in the last few hours; she could feel herself at the edge of a total freak out, and that was something she didn’t need the girls to see. “I have been, promise. I’m just…nervous about the news” Megan said as softly as she could, eyes glancing at the door in the hope that this conversation could end and they could leave. “Okay, I'm glad you’ve been taking your meds. Things are gonna be just fine. Let’s go, yeah?” Lara’s hand dropped from her shoulder, reaching toward her with an open palm, an invitation that she would gladly take, but she had to find a way to be alone for a bit first. “Yeah, I need the toilet first, though. Don’t worry about me, you guys go ahead, and I’ll meet you in the van. We have time, right?” Megan said passively, hoping that her eased speaking and nonchalant attitude came off casual enough that it wouldn’t draw direct attention her way. The other girls had congregated at the end of the table next to the door, all standing in silent wait for the two of them. “Yeah… we still have time, just don’t be too long” Lara said, looking toward the other girls. Nodding their heads, and with Lara’s hand dropping back to her side, slightly dejected, she decided not to question Megan’s actions. As they left the uncomfortable conference room, through the door into the hallway, Lara spared Megan one last brief look from her peripheral vision before they caught up with the others, walking together down to the elevator.

The elevator ride down was nothing short of painfully quiet, tension like smoke lingering in the small space. Nobody was willing to start a conversation about their new arrangements, and in all honesty, it seemed everyone was glad enough to avoid the subject for now. It had been a heavy morning filled with stress and then anxiety, which was likely now to follow them like a bad smell for the rest of the day. The only sound that could be heard in the small box was everyone’s breathing, and Sophia’s nervous habit of tapping her freshly done nails together. For once, some elevator music would have been appreciated by the group. Most of the girls’ eyes seemed to drift around the floor, not particularly looking at anything or anyone, but Megan’s eyes stayed steadfastly forward, looking at the doors. She was trying her utmost to hold in her feelings and seem casual, but the overwhelming screaming in her head that had reappeared since the conference room was starting to give her a migraine, and biting the inside of her cheek wasn’t cutting it on her list of grounding techniques; screaming and battering her members’ faces into the metal of the walls wasn’t really an option either.

The elevator door pinged open at the foyer, not without it feeling like a lifetime, and the girls stepped out in silence, Megan raising her hand in a slight wave and trembling out a shaky “I’ll be back in a minute”. The group all gave a collective mumble of agreement, clearly not paying much attention and not willing to inquire and clearly drained themselves. Megan turned on her heel, separating from the group and heading down the side of the foyer hurriedly, her head poised downward, and her hands hidden under her sweatshirt sleeves. It made her look softer on the outside, when in reality, under the layer of fabric, her hands were balled so tightly that her nails had started to cut through the skin of her hands; barely withstanding the force of her own fingers as her acrylic nails flexed slightly away from her nailbeds. The pain seemed to give Megan a sense of grounding as she ushered toward the bathroom, not the main foyer bathroom but a lesser-used facility which was tucked away down a rather uninhabited hallway at the side of the building. She could feel the tension of her teeth grinding together, an awful creak as they moved against each other sounding in her head. “Fuck, just another minute. Hold on” She bemoaned to herself, mind racing and eyes darting around as she reached the end of the hallway that housed the bathroom. It was a mostly unused wing of the offices, due to renovation of all the other sectors being used much more frequently, leading to this area becoming all but vacated - not derelict, but not used either. The perfect place for her to let out some of her emotions.

When she noticed there wasn’t a sound to be seen or heard in her vicinity, she stormed up to the door for the bathroom, bursting it open with enough force that it could have been taken off its hinges. Megan’s sneaker hung in the air, the force from her kick having left a visible indent in the metal frame, like it had been hit with a sledgehammer. Not her problem. Someone would likely be confused about how a dent of that proportion could end up on a door, but that didn’t matter to her in the slightest. Not that anyone would actually suspect something so outlandish, a person with a strong enough kick that they could stomp a metal door so fiercely that it left warped steel in its wake? It would be preposterous. Her now slightly quaking body made its way inside, hands landing on the porcelain sink in front of a plain rectangular mirror. The bathroom was a simple one, clearly slightly past its best, and not as up to standard as the rest of the building. Her body wasn’t trembling from panic now; her body was trembling from attempting to contain the unadulterated rage that coursed through her. She knew this bathroom was rarely used, and even more rarely inspected, so a thought of trashing the room until all it contained was a pile of mixed materials flew through her mind like a passing bird. Maybe this would give them an excuse to do this place up.

Her hands gripped the sink viciously, and the white porcelain seemed to screech under her digging fingers, creaking like it was ready to shatter in her hands. Her gaze mirrored her own in her reflection, red shining through her irises and veins becoming prominent around her eyes as she finally pulled the plug on the internal bottle that was barely containing her emotions; her fangs sliced through her grimace, and she looked at herself, really looked at herself for a moment. Part of her, the deep, dark, sadistic side of her wanted to storm out of that bathroom and go find every sorry mortal in that building, tear their spines from their bodies through their necks and beat their limp corpses with the bone until all that was left was her, soaked in blood, and a sea of mashed up bodies so utterly ripped apart that you wouldn’t be able to identify each corpse. “Not that hiding it really matters now – they are circling around me like water down a shower drain, maybe it’s time to make a scene for the history books” Her breathing had become laboured, heavy breaths seething past clamped teeth as her eyes stayed stationary on herself. Like a demon, breathing ashes outward and becoming entangled in the embers. The sink that she was holding onto for dear life crumbled slightly, the sharp slivers digging into her left hand and slicing through the flesh – she didn’t notice the sting nor feel it in that moment as her rage consumed her, red mist hazing over her vision.

In the van, the girls were all sitting together silently, each of them seemingly distracted on their phones; TikTok videos lightly gracing the air with noise as everyone kept to themselves. All of them were staring at a screen intently, wilfully ignorant of the mood of the group. Everyone except Daniela. Daniela was sitting in the same front seat she had occupied on the way there, with her hands in her lap as she fidgeted with the sleeve of her oversized pink hoodie. Her mind was wandering, playing over the expression that she had observed on Megan’s face during the meeting. It had tugged at her chest, as if someone was playing at her heartstrings, when she saw the pure panicked consternation that had taken over her features. She had never in her life seen Megan hold such an expression; the woman was known for her happy-go-lucky attitude, other than when her anxiety seemed to get the better of her, the girl was usually unperturbed and a problem solver to boot. She was the one that Daniela felt most comfortable with sharing her issues with; her replies and comfort were always so thought through and empathetic, like a warm blanket on a cold autumn night. To see Megan’s persona crumble like that in front of everyone had Daniela seriously worried; in fact, she had already been worried about the girl for the past couple of days. She seemed to be drifting off into her own world more often, disassociating from the room and becoming easily startled when one of the girls tried to snap her out of it. She had noticed her paler complexion on top of how exhausted the dark-haired girl looked, like she hadn’t slept a wink in days. The other members seemed to have noticed a shift, too, but seemed to be holding out in hopes that Megan would come to them first. Something was going on that she evidently felt like she couldn’t speak to the group about, and more than anything, Daniela was spurred to give her that comfort.

She had always had a fondness in her heart for Megan, one that stretched back to Dream Academy when they became friends over their passion for dance. Maybe, at times, she has caught herself looking a second too long, maybe she had watched the side of Megan’s face during movie nights and been completely enraptured by her perfectly clear skin and heavenly profile. Maybe this softness for Megan had cultivated itself over the amount of time the two spent working on routines, collapsing on studio floors from exhaustion, with a grin spread between the two of them. She knew that she cared about Megan more than she did about the other girls; they weren’t the ones that flashed into her mind when they were all cuddled up watching a rom-com. They weren’t the ones that she lay awake in bed thinking about on the lonelier nights. Megan had become the unobtainable in plain sight; the person she could feel from afar, yet she had to push it down for the sake of herself, for the sake of the group, for the sake of their careers. When you care about someone, you are okay with watching them succeed from the sidelines, and that is where Daniela situated herself – always the protector from the shadows, always the person propping her up when she could. But, it was the biggest secret she kept to herself, buried it so deep nobody would even be able to guess. It wasn’t something she would admit to anyone other than herself, for the sake of Katseye and the sake of her sanity. It wasn’t worth the potential fallout; she couldn’t be sure that Megan would ever even feel the same pull that she did. Megan could be a mysterious figure at times, and Daniela felt like, at moments, she had no idea what was going on inside the girl’s head – that scared her. She liked the absolutes in life, the things cemented in stone.

As her fingers fiddled with a stray string from her hoodie’s cuff, her mind debated between what to do, on whether she could go and check on her or not. “We are going to be sitting here anyway until she comes back, maybe I should just go check on her? She looked like she was headed to the toilets in the back corridor” She pondered, looking up from her sleeve to observe the girls around her. Everyone was still silent, and nobody dared to look up from their phones. The situation had made her skin feel prickly, nervous energy settling in her fingers and toes. Megan going off like that, after such a tense and burdening meeting, wasn’t a positive sign. “I have a bad feeling… screw it, I'm gonna check on her” Resolved and intent on her choice, she swung her legs forward to stand herself up, causing Sophia to look up from her phone toward the Latina in an inquisitive glance. “I’m gonna go check on Megan, she’s taking a while” Daniela rationalised, already stepping out the open door of the van before anyone could interject. The other girls had looked up at that moment, and at the assured girl’s words, they shrugged their shoulders and returned their gazes to their phones. All but one, who silently peered through the darkened windows, watching as Daniela’s figure made its way toward and disappeared into the HYBE offices, with a rush in her step. As Daniela walked through the foyer, her feet moving with purpose, her mind once again drifted to the girl her mind had been stuck on since the meeting. That despairing face flashed through her mind once again, like it had stained her memories with a tinge of charcoal that would never be wiped away. She was sure she could figure this out when she spoke to the girl, and whatever Megan was going through, she would help her with it. For the sake of her well-being.

Megan stood in the bathroom, stiff as a board, as she breathed through her nose like she was panting. The room felt hot, and she felt almost dizzy as her mind swirled in a rage-induced mist of red. That voice was back, tickling the back of her ear like a succubus, whispering and tempting. Tempting her to lose control, to just take what she wants and deal with the rest. “Paint the town red” It bellowed. She was staring into the mirror steadfastly, but her eyes weren’t really looking anymore, weren’t perceiving what was in front of her. Eyes hazed over, dull as if she was barely holding onto consciousness, like a taut thread ready to snap. Blood was trickling down her hand, sliding down the clean white sink, smudging and swirling in a beautiful drip; red against white, levity against madness. The ashes were rising with the smoke, and she was ready to fall into it, to disappear into the smog and let her instincts take over. Her heart was pounding in her ears like the hit of a drum. The porcelain was cracking under her powerful vice grip. If she didn’t have incredibly strong teeth, they would have shattered in her mouth from how tightly her teeth were gritted, fangs nearly piercing through her bottom lip from the swollen skin she had been gnawing on. Everything was beginning to fall away and distort, just like in her daydreams. That was, until she heard another drumbeat, syncopating with the sound of her own racing heart. A heartbeat that was slowly growing louder, an unmistakable rhythm that she instantly recognised, that she had grown to identify in a room of strangers. Daniela. And she was on her way there, pacing toward the bathroom like she was on a mission. She could begin to hear the pad of Daniela’s feet forcing their way down the hallway, nearing the bathroom door, which was still swung open from the force of her kick, and it shocked Megan into an attempt to somehow suppress and disguise her current state. The mist that was clouding her vision faded in an instant, the smoke dissipating like a sobering dive into icy water. Fangs jumped back up into her gums like they had been frightened, and the veins under her eyes crept back into obscurity. Though she looked human again, that rage still boiled away in her guts, ready to spill over given the opportunity, the anxiety still batting at her chest like a prisoner. She got so caught up in her rage that she failed to take the time she had meant to think over a plan, a way to sort this mess out. And she wouldn’t get the time to, not now, not with an anxiously pounding heart nearing her seemingly at jogging speed. “Calm. I need to calm down, FUCK” Megan stressed to herself, eyes flashing down to the now cracked sink and the blood slowly seeping out of her hand. The cut wasn’t anything serious, something that would heal in a day, but it didn’t stop the dread that dropped into her chest when, at that exact moment, Daniela spun into the bathroom with wide eyes, firstly scanning her face, then immediately piercing through her hand like her eyes were a weapon.

Megan stood there stunned, unable to speak as she creaked her head to the side like a doll, pink fringe sticking to her forehead because of the amount she’d been unconsciously sweating; a gulp sliding down her dry throat. She wasn’t exactly sure of how she looked to Daniela in this moment, but she was sure that explaining away why she was standing in a bathroom herself with a bloody hand and pieces of broken sink stuck into her palm wasn’t going to be an option. Daniela stood there dumbly, hand placed on the doorframe as her vision laser-focused on the glaring clues left in front of her: the bloody hand, the broken sink, the shards still sticking out of Megan’s hand. The only confounding issue was, she couldn’t connect the dots. How would a small-statured, soft girl like Megan manage to break a sink like that? Maybe she had fallen, causing the sink to chip? There was no instance she could dream up in her head that sounded plausible enough for her to wholeheartedly believe. “What the.. are you okay?!” Daniela practically shrieked, surging forward to grab Megan’s bloodied hand, some of the offending blood smearing onto her own palms in the process. Megan just stood there, completely stationary, as Daniela picked up her hand delicately from the side of the sink, some of the shards clinking off the floor as Daniela removed it. Looking at the violent scene of porcelain sticking out of her skin, it wasn’t pleasant, face grimacing slightly like the wounds were an offence to her eyes. Megan’s own eyes darted to the blood on Daniela’s fingers, and that oh so sweet burn of hunger started to simmer to a heat inside her, her instincts imagining that it was the dancer’s that was currently staining her hands that pretty colour. Megan’s body was dumb at the idea, swept away in the fantasy for a second as Daniela looked around at the hand, assessing the damage. It was taking a ridiculous amount of self-control not to take that tainted hand and drag it down Daniela’s face, just so she could see that same tint of red paint on her heavenly features. The vision felt like defacing a goddess, like tearing an angel down by its wings down to the inky depths of the underworld. That anger that bubbled inside her was twisting and turning, flipping over and changing into something much darker and depraved, a vicious lust that gave way to the idea of Daniela covered in blood and panting. If there was ever a situation that would abide such an act, it was where they were stood in that moment, and that made a small part of Megan unnerved.

“Megan, what happened?” Daniela inquired softly, running her fingers over the back of Megan’s hand whilst she held the bottom of her hand with the other, like it was something special, something valuable and delicate. She was being so kind, so patient, so timidly inquisitive and sweet as she looked around for something to clean the blood and pick the razor-sharp shards out with, eyes darting around until she found a paper towel dispenser beside her. It was a dichotomy of sorts; Daniela’s soft and tender actions of affection and care and Megan’s frozen stance of burgeoning hunger and instinct, like a cat ready to pounce on a mouse. Daniela was completely unaware in that moment, completely preoccupied by the dripping blood and the offending sharp ceramic, red dripping onto the hand that sat under Megan’s own, that she was in the room with a shark that smelled blood from a mile away. If this weren’t Daniela, and it was some random person in another building, she would have bludgeoned them into a leaking mess and have wrapped their arteries around her fingers like she was playing with a yo-yo. But it was Daniela, sweet, naïve Daniela, and Megan was trying to hold herself together. The dark expression on Megan’s face was apparent to Daniela, but she had mistaken it for some sort of brooding, or worse, dissociation, which would have made sense for the silence that she was experiencing. Daniela had kept the offending damaged hand in her grasp, reaching over to grab some paper towels from the dispenser, fist tight, to begin dabbing and wiping the blood away from the gashes. Megan still hadn’t uttered so much as a peep, vision burning into Daniela’s soft face as the girl got to work with almost surgical accuracy and touch as light as a baby duck’s wing. The sweetness of Daniela’s actions was not lost on Megan, but in her twisted mind, all that she started to think about was how close she was to the girl, how they were alone in a bathroom that nobody had been near for hours, and how she could easily take advantage of the opportunity that had presented itself. How Daniela’s docile face was dropped into a slight pout as she delicately attempted to start removing splinter after splinter of ceramic from her palm. The pain didn’t even register on the chart for her, maybe because she was so distracted. After all, this was but a flesh wound and would heal completely within the week. All that swum through her head were fantasies of the girl in front of her, flashing before her conscience like a slideshow that played sheerly over reality. It consisted of everything she tried so hard to avoid happening; Daniela under her tight grasp, screaming, pleading, and groaning under her heavy hands and greedy fangs that may do more damage than they could ever fix.

Daniela stood there, slowly pricking the shards out of Megan’s hand like it was the most delicate procedure on the planet. She couldn’t help but blush slightly; she could feel Megan’s eyes on her as she worked, and it was making her feel warm, a blooming rosiness settling on her cheeks as she motivated her attention on the task at hand. It hadn’t been lost on her, though, that Megan hadn’t answered her question, and her mind was buzzing with concern over not just the disposition of the girl, but her current wounds and what would have caused them. The concern she had was morphing from kind reluctance to push and prod, to address the situation, to grievance; Megan was never silent like this without good reason, and it was becoming aggravating that she was still to say a word. Even in her bad moments, she never closed out any of the girls earnestly like this. It made the dancer let out a small huff of breath as she tried to move with steady hands. Under the fabric of silence, she worked quickly, each piece that she took out being disposed of into the sink and on the floor. It didn’t matter where they landed; all she cared about right now was getting them out of Megan’s torn skin. Daniela diligently extracted each piece, trying not to slice further open the angry bleeding skin with a wrong movement or shaky hand. After what seemed like a purgatory of soundlessness and tension, Daniela managed to pull the last shard out of Megan’s hand. The woman took to looking at her own handiwork one more time, analysing the jagged skin for any stragglers, and after giving it the mental all-clear, took another paper towel to hold to her palm and soak up the rest of the blood that was slowly oozing out of the cuts. There was less blood than she had expected from the lacerations that graced Megan’s pale palm, of which looked incredibly painful, but she couldn’t be sure how painful they truly were as Megan refused to give up the ghost; she hadn’t flinched a single time whilst Daniela had taken out each sliver of porcelain piece by piece. She hadn’t even considered that Megan hadn’t felt a thing, her mind too concentrated on trying to fix the issue instead of seeing the bigger picture, or, matter of factly, the woman standing before her. Though the situation had been jarring, the outside world coming to a halt at that bathroom door, a part of Daniela’s mind had been oddly mesmerised by the ribbons of open flesh that were dancing over Megan’s bloodied hand as she attempted to clean it out. Everything else seemed to have dissipated as she focused in on the Chinese woman’s hand. There was something curiously beautiful in the way that the torn skin had such distinct, jagged edges, and how she could see every individual layer: the epidermis, dermis, and even adipose tissue down to the base of the cuts, before blood would invade the gory crevices again. Dried remnants of sanguine stained her nailbeds from trying to contain the bleeding, and something in her mind, the smallest, quietest voice in that moment, made her want to inspect it more, to look at the coagulated crusts that had accumulated on her fingers, looking at them like she had seen a stag in the opening of a forest. The Daniela that she herself knew had never thought of herself as particularly morbidly curious, never the type to be particularly engrossed in medical information or gore. But in that moment, it seemed she had proven herself wrong. The thought made her want to both recoil into herself, the unanticipated thoughts something that she needed to compartmentalise for a later time, but it also made her want to take the girl’s stained and mangled hand and inspect each little sliver of wound one by one; run her fingers over the tears and press down to see how much it would bleed.

Standing there still in quietude, Daniela’s face finally looked up towards Megan again as she held the now tarnished paper towel to her hand. The room perceived to be smaller than before when their faces met, Megan’s deep, amber-like eyes peering into her’s like they were in search of something, like they saw right through her and into her soul, shining a light on her conscious like a lighthouse’s beam. The silence was starting to bedevil the Latina woman, exasperated because there was no way to assist the woman if Megan wouldn’t speak to her. They couldn’t stand here forever whilst she awaited Megan’s reply like a spirit haunting the pair; it wasn’t even about the schedules they would likely be late for. It was about the woman in front of her’s utter unwillingness to do anything bar give her that sizzling stare. “Megan, are you gonna say something? What the hell is going on with you?” Daniela sniped out before she could really think about the implications, steeling her look toward the Chinese girl, whose face didn’t move as much as an inch. Daniela’s strain to hide her aggrievance at the girl’s silence was failing, poking through cloth like bullet holes, and in an effort to get her to react, to say something, she pushed forward, entering into her personal space - a little too close. Megan was still pointedly mute, but the slight jitter of her body at the close proximity at least let Daniela know she was conscious of her inquisition. “Are you going to answer me? Or are we going to stand in silence?” Daniela challenged, now standing close enough to the Chinese woman that the affected side of her wounded hand was touching the side of Daniela’s hip; she could feel Megan’s breath breeze past her face: slightly laboured and tense. Megan stood there almost defiantly, eyes unmoving and, as Daniela noticed, pupils blown out; large, abyssal blackness overtaking the beautiful swirls of golden brown. It was almost as if the girl’s eyes had morphed as Daniela had intruded on her space, going from a beautiful array of coppers and honey to a darkness that was akin to the depths of the cosmos. They both stood there in a stalemate, not a word being spoken as they stood face to face, frozen in a silent war. Daniela wanted answers, and Megan wanted to grab the girl by the hair and sink her teeth right into the raised jugular vein in her neck.

A tremulous breath exhaled its way out of Megan, and for the first time since Daniela had stepped into the bathroom, she opened her mouth with a short command. “Step back” Her voice was hoarse-sounding, guttural and tense, like she was forcing the words past the shield of her teeth with no spaces; Like trying to force water through concrete. A direct contrast to the way that Megan was looking at her, a dangerous look that she couldn’t quite place, something parlous. The statement stupefied Daniela for a second, leaving her dumbfounded and, if anything, more indignant, but she refused to move; her hand still gripping Megan’s wrist to the side in their close encounter. Daniela’s hand gripping Megan’s wrist felt like a white-hot brand on the vampire’s skin, tingling and singeing where their skin met, and she could feel it wasn’t just the girl’s hand causing it; the mark only centimetres above Daniela’s hand seemed to have been aroused by the close contact too; wanton and greedy. The tension was rising rapidly in that moment, a hot, scalding exchange of an immovable object and an unstoppable force. There might as well have been waving steam lines emanating from the two of them as they held that glower, but Daniela had not a single idea of the lamia she had standing merely centimetres away from her face. “Why? What’s the issue here? Why won’t you speak to me?” Daniela’s voice had dipped into something more accusatory than before, supplication intertwining with her annoyance, eyes squinting slightly along with her forehead creasing in a scowl. Megan could feel the clawing of the monster inside her head, like it was rattling against the bars of its enclosure, begging to break free, fervent, protesting and violent. She was laggardly losing in the battle for control. Daniela’s voice was like white noise as she gritted her teeth in protest of her own conscience, a duel that she was now on her knees in. “I’m not going anywhere until you explain this to me. I don’t care how long this takes, because from my angle?” Daniela’s head dipped to the side in a scalding interrogation of Megan’s form, her stance, her tightened fists, her tense jaw, and bowed brow. “You have been acting VERY strange” The last two words were punctuated with a tug at Megan’s wrist and another hand coming up to prod at her chest, on beat like a metronome to her voice. “You’ve been distant, barely conscious of the world around you, you look paler than usual, and you have bags like you haven’t slept in days. What are you doing?! Are you doing drugs or something!?” The Latina continued her pointed monologue, seemingly getting lost in her own game of connect the dots as she ranted and tried to make sense of Megan’s demeanour and behaviour. “And now, I come to check on you, see if you are okay, to find you with a screwed-up hand while you stare into space like you don’t know the world around you exists!?” The last comment was punctuated with the raising of her voice, the woman’s emotions clearly beginning to get the better of her, tying themselves around her neck like a noose she was putting her own head into. Daniela was known for being stubborn, especially when she sensed something wasn’t being told to her, like this moment; She was also known for being a little too impassioned when it came to both her feelings and her protectiveness of all of the Katseye members, and for not containing them particularly well, ergo her overzealous rant and tormenting overanalyses.

A count of muteness hummed once more in the bathroom. Nobody made a single noise, yet the atmosphere was now crackling with electricity like a live wire in water. All that floated through the air was Daniela’s heaving, her chest rising and falling like the words that had come from her mouth had exhausted her. Like what she had spoken were concrete bricks tied to her ankles, and she had been thrown into the ocean to drown. The tension had risen to a point where there was no certainty on where this encounter was going; it could’ve ended in tears or a screaming match, or worse. That tension sat there like acid, gnawing at the walls and floor like it was about to disintegrate, that was, until Megan jolted into movement unexpectedly. She shot to life, like she had been unfrozen from a block of ice, taking less than a second to move, and for Daniela to move along with her, a swift dance that left Daniela feeling weightless for a second. Megan had wrapped her now unclenched hand around Daniela’s wrist, large fingers wrapping around the Latina’s slightly uncovered wrist, with authority, as she spun the girl to press against the chipped sink. There was a flash of red that pulsed on the skin that Megan touched, barely noticeable yet poignant as it dissipated like Daniela’s body had absorbed it into its veins. Daniela let out an exclamation, not quite a yelp but not a whimper either, her face morphing into surprise as her eyebrows shot up and she felt the sink hit against the small of her back. She could feel the cool ceramic against her clothes, and it dissipated like a drop of water on a searing pan; the cold was tangible, but it did nothing to dissipate the heat that was emanating from inside her. Daniela’s eyes glossed over as she felt the porcelain wedge into her lower back. Megan’s face was thunderous, eyes dark and large and undeniably sharp-set. “Why couldn’t you have just listened to me?” Megan bemoaned, an air of disappointment and something more animalistic cut through the tension like a knife through water, barely noticeable for a second before being swallowed once again. Her voice was low, thrumming against her vocal cords thickly; Daniela could practically feel the vibrations in her chest from the proximity. Megan’s eyes darted down to Daniela’s neck in a flash, subconsciously like she was sizing up prey and then back up, landing her back into their tense close-quarters exchange. Daniela noticed the quick shift, and she thought she noticed exactly what Megan was looking at when she did. At least, she thought she did. It made something deep and sticky and throbbing settle in her stomach, and she couldn’t find it in herself to deny the feeling. Why would Megan look at her like that?

The two women’s bodies were millimetres from each other; their clothes merged into union from the tight-knit space between them. Megan’s figure was imposing on Daniela, and the shock from being manhandled to the sink had made her slightly disoriented, her mind fuzzy like she was slightly intoxicated. There was something about Megan right at that moment that left her feeling helpless; something her gut was screaming at her, but she couldn’t decipher nor find it in herself to care why; it was Megan in front of her, not someone to worry about. Not the serial killer that they were just given a safety meeting about. Why, then, did the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end? Why was there an air of threat lingering in her gut? The feeling of Megan’s breathing was surrounding her, had her head spinning, and she couldn’t make heads nor tails of what was happening – it suddenly felt like there was a sheer blanket over her eyes, like she couldn’t quite picture the details even though they were right in front of her. Megan’s lips, Megan’s Eyes, Megan’s everything were incredibly distracting to the matter at hand. In front of her, the aforementioned vampire couldn’t contain herself much longer either. All of the rage, the anxiety, the tension – it all culminated in this very moment, the moment where she couldn’t control herself for once, no matter how hard she tried to. The Latina was too close, smelled too good; she could hear the speed at which the woman’s heart was beating, and it invaded her senses like a beautiful serenade. She barely registered what she was doing in the moment, her subconscious making the decision for her.

“Meg-” The dancer didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence before the vampire had surged forward, hand reaching up to the nape of her neck as she took Daniela’s lips in a searing kiss. Her hands were harsh on Daniela, rough and strong as they grasped at her. The dancer hesitated for the first moment, completely unbelieving of the fact that Megan had just put her lips to hers, that this was actually happening; yet she couldn’t muster up anything that was profoundly unwilling to comply. In fact, she found herself letting out a whine at the contact. She was shocked and confused, but it felt like those feelings were held inside bubble wrap and tucked away in a closet at the feeling of the vampire rapaciously capturing her in a mouth-numbing exchange, a burning fire erupting inside her at the sensation of her and Megan’s lips connecting. Though she knew somewhere deep inside that she really shouldn’t be letting this happen, especially given the interrogation that she intended to continue with, she couldn’t bring herself to care in that moment; all hazy and entranced, all that mattered was that she was under Megan’s touch, kissing her like her life depended on it. She couldn’t see anything past that, could only focus on Megan’s mouth, Megan’s smell, Megan’s hands... “Megan Megan Megan” was all that flicked through her mind.

The pink-haired woman’s brow was pressed downward, a grunt flowing out of her throat as she attacked Daniela’s mouth with her own; violent, messy and lascivious. Daniela clicked into action, starting to move her lips with just as much fervour, both of their bodies closing in on each other completely. Megan had pressed Daniela’s back almost painfully into the sink as their chests met in the middle, every part of them now touching, and it felt like a ring of fire was raging around them; hot and sweaty and sinful. The kiss was sloppy, primal and needy, all teeth and passion as their lips ravaged each other. It was forceful, like they were both attempting to take something from the other, rather, trying to satiate the need within themselves; Megan had lost the battle, and Daniela was dazedly following suit. Megan took Daniela’s bottom lip between her teeth and bit into it, the skin barely holding back blood as the thin skin began to bloom with red and taste of iron, which made Megan’s eyes roll into the back of her head with something close to a snarl. The groan that the dancer let out from the bite shot through the vampire’s system like a shot of whiskey; intoxicating in the best way as it reverberated through the room. She could feel herself become almost embarrassingly aroused from the scene attacking her senses. Their tongues had already met in fervour, lashing against each other like they were battling for dominance, and it was apparent that Megan was winning; the hand at the base of Daniela’s neck tightened slightly as they kissed furiously. The feeling of strong hands around the Latina’s throat was driving her insane, her thighs trembling as she let out a gasp, dripping in exhilaration and the mouth-watering feeling of arousal. Daniela seemed to be unable to tame the noises coming out of her, whimpering and moaning into the Chinese woman’s mouth with every flick of her tongue, every touch setting her alight with want. Her moans became more struggled at the tension of Megan’s hand closing in more, the pressure near her neck veins sending her into a complete daze – she sounded pathetic from Megan’s ministrations, and she couldn’t find it in herself to stop. Both women were grasping at each other ravenously, trying to experience every inch of the other’s touch with voracious hands.

Things were getting increasingly heated, and very quickly, as Megan dragged her hand up the column of Daniela’s neck; the blood from her hand smudging over the skin there and up to her jaw, where Megan held tautly, controlling the woman’s face as she tilted it to the side. She could smell her own blood on Daniela’s skin, and it was making wetness pool in her underwear at the idea – she eagerly anticipated experiencing it fully when she would get her mouth to the area. Daniela felt like she was under some sort of spell, completely hypnotised by Megan’s actions as she let the girl take her lips, grip her jaw and take total control. A small part of her consciousness was still apprehensive of the situation and clear-minded, begging for answers, but she didn’t feel like listening to it when Megan felt so damn good, so easily convincing. “Mmph” Daniela mewled, the hand at her jaw driving her crazy; something about Megan manhandling her and being rough turned her on immensely, causing her to tense her thighs together slightly. Megan wasn’t even thinking anymore, acting on pure primal instinct as her hands roughly grasped at Daniela, sounds of pleasure coming out more like snarls, and her lips becoming rosy and bruised. Her unoccupied hand had a tight grip on Daniela’s hip, pinning her in place, and she could feel Daniela’s body rocking forward unconsciously to meet hers, seemingly grinding on nothing. Her gums itched most delightfully at the scene before her.

“Megan” Daniela gasped as their heated mouths detached, the pink-haired girl immediately diving her lips to the girl’s jaw, licking and kissing and painting the woman’s neck with the smeared blood of her own hand. The loss of the vampire’s lips on Daniela’s left her wanting, with nothing to muffle the sound of her pleasured moans as she whined for more - of what she wasn’t sure, as long as Megan was touching her, making her feel good, she didn’t care. Megan stayed smugly silent, unable to speak through her own hypnotism as her eyes drank up the sight of Daniela from her neck. “Fuck, amor” Daniela’s head tilted back at her ministrations, her voice strained, revelling in the feeling as Megan’s teeth teased over her sensitive neck, flirting with the skin, her breathing stuttering and her hands gripping the back of the sink fiercely. All Megan could think about was the pulsing vein underneath her lips, the taste of her own blood on her groupmate’s skin, and the downright sacrilegious noises coming from Daniela’s mouth. She couldn’t string a competent thought together, and her mouth was getting insatiable, sucking and gnawing on flesh like it belonged to her. She could feel it, her fangs slowly descending in her mouth, their sharp points trailing along the taut skin like the edge of a knife. All it would take is one bite – one stab into her skin, and she would be unchained, one taste, and she wouldn’t be able to stop. Daniela had no inkling of the fact that Megan was one movement away from killing her. Through the erotic haze of kisses and eager sucking against her neck, she felt something sharp drag along it lightly, like a pinprick, too dazed to focus on it.

“Just bite down. Take it, take what you want. Her blood would taste delicious; she’d look so pretty as a mess painting this room” The sound Megan muffled into the skin was bestial, not cognisant of the way her hand had started to dig in, bruising Daniela’s hip, or the tightness of her hand on her jaw; she was swept up in the thrill and bloodlust too much to realise. Her tongue lashed out, licking a hot, steamy stripe up the Latina’s neck before kissing the skin back down to the nape. She could taste it just under the surface, the abused skin giving way to the delectable taste of iron and unmistakable in its savoury saltiness mixed with an intoxicating sweetness. Daniela groaned out as she focused on her most sensitive spot, just under her jaw, sloppily kissing the area like she wanted to consume it. Daniela was starting to notice, however, how rough Megan was being, her hands vice-like in their grip. “Baby…too hard” One of Daniela’s hands hastened down to her hip to try and get Megan to ease up on her hold, meeting the tight, strong fingers that were clutching her hip fiercely. Megan was so close, the skin humid and glistening with sanguine as she licked it, ready to drive her fangs in; the blood just under the surface making her judgment cloudy. “Megan?” The Latina asked, now slightly more trepidatious, the hand under hers not letting up its vice grip, skin underneath already blotting beautiful shades of blue and purple. Megan’s hand on her jaw was also unwavering, thumb digging into her cheek as she kept Daniela’s head pivoted to the side. The atmosphere was starting to take on a darker, more twisted quality, shifting from the lustful air into a tense, charged scene. Megan’s face was still buried in Daniela’s neck, taking in the scent of her as her ministrations got more unhinged and savage – a mix of arousal, perspiration and jasmine as she nosed at her nape, still completely enchanted in working the skin with her mouth, fangs just barely scraping the surface. She made a mistake, however, as under her voracious mouth, she nicked Daniela’s neck with a fang from a particularly gnawing kiss, causing the slightest dribble of the Latina’s blood to smear over Megan’s lips and into her mouth.

The sound that Megan let out was nothing short of a bellowing howl of pleasure, the slight taste washing through her senses like a drug, euphoria roaring in her brain. The flavour was delectable and completely intoxicating; better than anything she had ever tasted, better than anyone else’s blood she had consumed – she was hooked from that one drop, and she wanted more, like a drug that only took one dose. Her head was positively spinning from the feeling of just a trickle of that blood sliding over her tongue. Her teeth tingled, and she was just about to open her mouth wide to take what was rightfully hers. That was, until she heard the sharp intake of air from Daniela, her body tensing from the unexpected pain of the nick. Megan hadn’t realised that she had latched her lips around the area, not quite sucking, but letting the trickle of blood roll into her waiting maw, like a child waiting to be fed. The sound of Daniela’s pained gasp was enough to slam Megan’s consciousness out of her blood-hungry reverie, a sobering sound, it being the only thing in the room besides her heavy breathing. She felt like she was thrown from one dimension to another, and the thought that entered her mind had pure panic wash across her body like heavy rain. How could she be so fucking stupid, so thoughtless? What the hell was she doing? If she had gone on for even a second longer, there was no doubt she would have bitten the woman, and she would’ve drained every drop of blood that her body had. This was her teammate, her friend. How would she explain herself out of that one? “FUCK. I need to get away. NOW” Megan’s subconscious screamed at her, and her body acted in accordance, like she had been seared with a hot brand. She immediately staggered backwards and let go of Daniela, an uncomfortable distance between them as she hastily turned to face the opposite way; she knew exactly how she looked right now, and there was no hiding her vampire attributes like her eyes, veins and fangs. Daniela seemed to have snapped out of her haze as soon as Megan stood back, the spell broken like a rock dropping on a mirror, standing there dumbfounded as her hand reached for her neck, bringing it in front of her face to see a small streak of blood. She was disorientated and perplexed, standing there obtusely as she looked between the blood specks and the girl facing away from her. There was nothing Megan could say in that moment, no way to smooth this over or to control herself; no way to brush this under the carpet. “I- I’ve got to go” Megan stuttered out, not looking backwards toward the Latina. Daniela couldn’t bring herself to argue at that moment, seemingly at a loss for words over what had just transpired; she felt like she had been there but hadn’t been at the same time. Before she could have the chance to ask questions, before an interrogation could possibly take place, the Chinese girl had pivoted toward the dented door and bolted through the open frame, exiting like there was a raging fire and her life was at stake, leaving Daniela standing there, mouth agape in unspoken words.

Daniela stood petrified in place, her hand unmoving in front of her; all her eyes could look at was the red that had come from her neck. All that was running through her mind at that moment was one question: “What the hell had just happened?”

Chapter 2