Another hunter
Makoto paced around his basement office, feeling as though he wanted to chew on the furniture. This was no life for a Gangrel. His nights were filled with arguments and paperwork, instead of running under the moon and slinking through the undergrowth after his prey.
Still, he had no other choice if he wanted to fix Piallago up. And he wanted to, although sometimes he forgot why. But these were his people, and if he didn't look after them, nobody would. Besides, he'd started, and damned if he was going to give up now.
Nights like these, though, they weren't easy. And it had been weeks since he'd tasted human blood. Kangaroos and rabbits were all well and good, and easy to hunt, but something about human blood inflamed his veins and made him feel more alive than he had since that night last year. There was no denying it, he had to have some.
Fortunately, there was a ready supply upstairs...
-----
"Please, Mr McOtough! I just need to stay here for one night. My husband will beat me if I go back tonight!"
Makoto cast a cursory glance over the bedraggled woman who had just stepped away from the soup line, before turning his attention back to his assistants. Someone was always trying to get into the shelter when it was already full. He was just glad that this one wasn't starting a fight. No, she was just...
"Please! You can't send me back home tonight! I'll do anything!" she begged, catching his sleeve and pulling closer to him, inciting the security guards to step closer, but Makoto waved them away, looking at the woman with a more critical eye.
"Stand back, guys. Anything, you say?"
The woman nodded, giving the Gangrel a shy smile. "Anything, Mr McOtough."
Makoto smiled and slipped his arm around the woman's shoulders, not bothering to ask her for her name. "Call me Reynard. You can sleep in my office."
-----
Before long, the woman was naked under the small pile of blankets on the mattress that Makoto kept in his office for the sake of appearances. She obviously had no illusions about what the cost of her accomodation was to be. Except that she was, of course, wrong.
Makoto finished up some paperwork on his computer, then slid under the blankets with the woman, still wearing his shirt and jeans. She turned to embrace him, but he pushed her back and simply held her around her waist, his head resting on her shoulder.
"You don't have to do that. Just... just relax. You're safe here. I won't let him get to you." As he spoke soothingly, his fingers ran over the woman's neck, tracing out her veins instinctively. The woman reacted to his sensual touch, taking his hands and drawing them further down her body. Even with his eyes closed, his fingers moved by themselves, eliciting low murmurs of pleasure from his quarry, who never even stopped to wonder why his hands were so cold. She barely noticed when he slipped his fangs into her neck, one form of passion blending in to the other as he drank his fill of her rich, hot blood, the same blood that ran in the veins of beggars and kings. How could anyone doubt the value of the mortals when this was what they had to give?
-----
Makoto extracted himself from the woman's embrace a few hours later, leaving her sleeping. She was not beautiful, by any standard, nor did she have anything to offer society. But she had given him his blood, and for that, he could not fail to be grateful.
He handed a roll of bills to his assistant, indicating the woman. "Watch her, make sure she gets home alright, and give her that money. No, wait... give it to her husband. And if she doesn't get her share... break his legs."
His assistant nodded and went back to work, while Makoto knelt beside the sleeping angel and brushed his fingers gently over the invisible wound. He couldn't learn all of their names, but he could respect what they gave him.
Still, he had no other choice if he wanted to fix Piallago up. And he wanted to, although sometimes he forgot why. But these were his people, and if he didn't look after them, nobody would. Besides, he'd started, and damned if he was going to give up now.
Nights like these, though, they weren't easy. And it had been weeks since he'd tasted human blood. Kangaroos and rabbits were all well and good, and easy to hunt, but something about human blood inflamed his veins and made him feel more alive than he had since that night last year. There was no denying it, he had to have some.
Fortunately, there was a ready supply upstairs...
-----
"Please, Mr McOtough! I just need to stay here for one night. My husband will beat me if I go back tonight!"
Makoto cast a cursory glance over the bedraggled woman who had just stepped away from the soup line, before turning his attention back to his assistants. Someone was always trying to get into the shelter when it was already full. He was just glad that this one wasn't starting a fight. No, she was just...
"Please! You can't send me back home tonight! I'll do anything!" she begged, catching his sleeve and pulling closer to him, inciting the security guards to step closer, but Makoto waved them away, looking at the woman with a more critical eye.
"Stand back, guys. Anything, you say?"
The woman nodded, giving the Gangrel a shy smile. "Anything, Mr McOtough."
Makoto smiled and slipped his arm around the woman's shoulders, not bothering to ask her for her name. "Call me Reynard. You can sleep in my office."
-----
Before long, the woman was naked under the small pile of blankets on the mattress that Makoto kept in his office for the sake of appearances. She obviously had no illusions about what the cost of her accomodation was to be. Except that she was, of course, wrong.
Makoto finished up some paperwork on his computer, then slid under the blankets with the woman, still wearing his shirt and jeans. She turned to embrace him, but he pushed her back and simply held her around her waist, his head resting on her shoulder.
"You don't have to do that. Just... just relax. You're safe here. I won't let him get to you." As he spoke soothingly, his fingers ran over the woman's neck, tracing out her veins instinctively. The woman reacted to his sensual touch, taking his hands and drawing them further down her body. Even with his eyes closed, his fingers moved by themselves, eliciting low murmurs of pleasure from his quarry, who never even stopped to wonder why his hands were so cold. She barely noticed when he slipped his fangs into her neck, one form of passion blending in to the other as he drank his fill of her rich, hot blood, the same blood that ran in the veins of beggars and kings. How could anyone doubt the value of the mortals when this was what they had to give?
-----
Makoto extracted himself from the woman's embrace a few hours later, leaving her sleeping. She was not beautiful, by any standard, nor did she have anything to offer society. But she had given him his blood, and for that, he could not fail to be grateful.
He handed a roll of bills to his assistant, indicating the woman. "Watch her, make sure she gets home alright, and give her that money. No, wait... give it to her husband. And if she doesn't get her share... break his legs."
His assistant nodded and went back to work, while Makoto knelt beside the sleeping angel and brushed his fingers gently over the invisible wound. He couldn't learn all of their names, but he could respect what they gave him.