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𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞 𝕳𝖊𝖑𝖑 [ᴮᵉˡˡ ⁺ ₐₘᵦₑᵣᵧₙ] {NSFW}

The thump of music followed her out onto the road, the slam of the door containing it back inside the club. Outside, the air was thick with smoke, and Leona's nose wrinkled with disgust. It took her a few steps to realise she'd stormed out without grabbing her jacket. Looking back at the door, she shrugged; she would pick it up tomorrow night. If it went walkabout between then and now, it wasn't a huge loss; it wasn't one of her favourites, and everything she needed was squeezed into the tiny pockets of her shorts.

It probably wasn't the smartest idea to walk through London at night, especially dressed as she was, but honestly? Leona was passed caring. In just over a month, her life would be over, her destiny no longer her own. A dangerous part of her welcomed whatever the late night threw at her; it wasn't going to be any where near as dangerous as what the Academy had in store for her. Plus, storming out didn't have the same effect when you walked back in to grab your jacket. She was in a particularly dark mood as she made her way to the nearest bus stop, pulling her phone out to pull up the tracker. Being dumped tended to do that to a girl.

She looked up from her phone as a red blur passed her. Shit, that was her bus. The bus that came once an hour. Fingers scrolled through her apps to check, yup, there were no cars available. Not a surprise on a Friday night in the middle of the summer holidays. That left her with one option: the underground. Further than she wanted to go on her own at this time of night. At least it was warm, the waxing crescent moon shining bright in the sky. This far in the city, the stars were difficult to see, the North Star winking, and Leona took the opportunity to throw a wish to it.

"Starlight, Starbright, first star I see tonight," she murmured, "I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight." Her eyes scrunched close for a moment. Save me from my fate, don't make me go to the Academy.

The universe didn't answer, it never did, and she kept walking, patting down her pockets in search of her headphones. Panic seized her for a moment before she found them, her mood lifting at the sight of them. Just as she fit one in her ear, she heard it: a cackle that made her blood run cold. A group of men on the other side of the road were staring at her. Booted feet began to move that bit faster, her fight or flight response triggering. Just keep going, they'll get bored. Ducking her head, Leona was cursing herself for letting her emotions get away with her. She should have gone back into the club and grabbed her jacket to cover her corset. Should have sucked it up and waited in safety while she waited for a car to pick her up, or sat her ass down at the bus stop for an hour.

'Shoulds' weren't going to do bugger all against the group trailing her, the heavy sound of their footsteps, and their jeers announcing that they were right behind her. Her back was itching from the intensity of their gazes, igniting the newly tattooed skin at the base of her spine. Abruptly, she turned down a side road, hoping to put some space between them. Instead, she nearly ran into someone. Dropping her phone, it went skittering across the pavement hard enough to make her wince. The figure in front of her lunged for her, and she backpedalled with the sudden realisation that they'd herded her here.

A glance over her shoulder told her that they were hanging back, eyes drawn to every part of her bared flesh, but they didn't attempt to touch her. The one in front of her was the ringleader, and she backed away as he loomed closer, a wicked-looking knife flashing in the moonlight. Leona hit a wall with a grunt, panic surging through her along with indignation. Well, the universe had answered, it seemed. Death in the darkness instead of death training to be a vampire's pet assassin.

Her hands scrambled for her bank card, holding it out to him. "Just take it," she told him, hating the pleading in her voice.

He cocked his head, looking at it before grabbing it and tossing it to one side. Her throat bobbed beneath her choker, her pulse racing when he loomed closer. He slammed a hand next to her head, and she jerked away. His other hand landed next to her head, trapping her. Fuck this. She brought her knee up to slam into his balls, and he avoided it easily, pressing himself against her.

"Why would I want money, darling, when I can have this?" he asked, his hand reaching to stroke her cheek. Leona flinched, turning her head away with a jangle of her earrings. He chuckled and looked up, head turning to his companions before giving her his full attention. "Be a good girl and you might even enjoy this."
 
One did not simply rescue hotties at night. Samuel stood at the edge of the rooftop overlooking the quartet. Three assailants and a girl. A victim-not-to-be. It would be better if there were two girls to save, but one did not have control over such peculiarities. Still, there was no reason to rush. The men obviously were not restricted by mercantile needs alone; they had desires above and below monetary, and the girls' already skimpy attire could "benefit" from a modification or two. Samuel didn't bother holding the corners of his lips flat. His supernatural hearing could pick up every breath, every sigh, every chuckle, even from this distance as he watched three south London chaffs take what they perceived belonged to them.

"Be a good girl and you might even enjoy this."

Samuel heard, the smile disappeared from his face, and was replaced with a grimace of disappointment. "Such a cliché," He whispered to himself and watched the man's fingers move under the laces of her top and quickly dismantle it. Samuel was still processing the lack of originality, to register whether it was brute force or actual skill on the part of the criminal, the result was the same: the girl was topless, with the corset being tossed aside. Pressed against the wall, the chav put a hand on top of her head and pushed her down, forcing her to squat between his crotch and the wall. Soon, there was a hand between her face and his crotch, his fingers fumbling with the zipper, followed by the wet sound of his trousers being undone. Wet sounds?

"What the fuck." The confident man quickly stepped back, turning on his heel to see his two friends on the ground in the shared puddle of blood.

"I'm Samuel. I'm here to save the topless mademoiselle behind you." The man, who stood between soon-to-be corpses, said, tilted a little to the left, to look behind the chav and at the girl and winked. "It's ok, I know a twenty-four-hour bikini top store." The vampire in the leather coat turned and switched his attention back to the man in front of him. Who was quite shocked, for quite understandable and respectful reasons. As predators go, humans are not exactly at the top of the chain. Weak jaws, not sharp at all, fangs or nails, joints that give up after the age of twenty-five. "So, are you going to run, or are you going to stay and share the…" the vampire made a gesture, circling his finger in the direction of the puddle of blood. "…space with your buddies?"

Technically, it was frowned upon to leave witnesses, but it was fun to read about vampires in the Daily Mail…and one day, he hoped to maybe read about his work in The Independent or Guardian?

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." The man took a step back and bumped Leonia's face. "Fuck. Sorry." He apologised to the girl, whose face he was planning to fuck a few seconds ago and then dashed to the side and run the fuck away.

Samuel watched the man run for his life before slowly turning back toward Leonia. He followed her gaze to the puddle of mud where her corset had landed, half-submerged. The girl was on her knees when he slowly paced around the corpses and the blood to keep his shoes clean, and approached her. "As I said, my family owns a 24/7 swimsuit shop." Suave, confident, and caring at the same time, he approached the girl, "Don't worry…" he extended his hand, and then he saw something. The satisfied face of a man who was about to relish the heroic triumph deflated.

"Shitfucked tits. Of all the hotties I could have saved tonight, it had to be a fucking hunter." Samuel barked when he noticed the partial tattoo on the small of her back. His hand simply dropped. "Which family are you from?" He asked the girl and nodded towards the top. The prince charming was gone in a blink. "Pick your top up, we don't want to attract even more perverts." He added and clicked his fingers, and watched the young woman look at him with that unmistakable mixture of shock, hatred, and even more shock.

Maybe he should consider teaching her a lesson or two. Hunter or not, he did save her. A bit of a waste of time, since she will possibly go to some other vampire when her time to go to school comes. The hand that offered safety only moments ago extended towards her again. With nothing to offer, it instead landed on her cheek.
 
Leona was quite certain she would not enjoy whatever the prick had in mind, and the expression on her face said as much. The head chav wasn't paying attention, his hands pawing at her top, thick fingers trying to unlace the corset before realising he had a knife. Her breath quickened as he brought the blade closer to her skin, unable to look away as the knife sliced down... the strings stood no chance, falling to pieces and letting her top fall open. That wasn't enough for him, and he dragged it off her shoulders one at a time, tossing it away. Her hands came up to cover herself, dimly surprised that there were no comments from the audience.

His hand pushed her head down, forcing her body into an uncomfortable squat. She kept one hand splayed across her chest in a poor attempt to hide her large breasts, the other hand pawing at the wall behind her for some sort of stability. His crotch was directly in front of her, and she closed her eyes, not wanting to see what came tumbling out from behind that zipper. A squelch made her shudder, oh god, had the bastard already cum? One eye gradually opened, the other following suit when the man cursed.

She blinked up at the dark-haired man grandstanding in front of her would-be-rapist. The rest of the gang were on the floor, surrounded by blood, and he... he was winking at her?! Unable to hold the crouched position again, Leona lowered herself to her knees, rubbing a hand over her face. What. the. actual. fuck. It was so ludicrous that she craned her neck to look behind him, expecting to see someone with a phone recording the whole thing. Nope... the guy was alone, and he'd just taken out how many? He kept running his mouth, and she was surprised when her attacker stepped back, apologised to her and then fled.

Again, she looked about. No pigs flying. Hmmm. The adrenaline rush was starting to wear off, and she shivered, looking about for her corset. It was sitting in a puddle, and she groaned. Damnit, I liked that top. All things considered, a damaged top was a small price to pay for her stupidity. Her White Knight was stepping closer, and she rolled her eyes at the shop comment. A hand reached out for her, and Leona reached for it, shifting her weight and leaning forward as she prepared to get up.

The sudden cursing from him made her freeze. Of all the hotties I could have saved tonight, it had to be a fucking hunter. Oh come on! The quiet, near-silent approach, the easily dispatched bodies. Not to mention all the fucking blood. She groaned, understanding his reaction because she was feeling the exact same thing. She wasn't supposed to have to deal with bloody vampires until the fall. Straightening back up just in time to see his hand drop away like he'd been stung, she looked up past him, glaring at the twinkling North Star.

"That's the last time I wish on a sodding star," she muttered bitterly, lowering her eyes to regard the asshole making demands of her. The charming act was gone, and her lip curled when he clicked his fingers at her. Definitely a fucking vampire.

Anger gave way to disbelief as he expected her to pick up her broken top from the puddle and put it on. She eyed his leather jacket, resisting the urge to roll her eyes again. Someone had been watching too much Blade and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. He was a walking cliche stalking through the night, saving, how had he put it, 'topless mademoiselles'. His hand reached for her, angled towards her cheek, fingers catching her flesh before she could pull away.

Normally, she hated offering her family name, the weight of history and legacy dragging her down. This time, however, she looked him directly in the eyes, not bothering to move away from his hand. He'd do that for her in just a second. "Hawthorne," she replied, eyes glinting with dark humour. Yes, my ancestor killed you fuckers, the look said.

Her eyes flicked to the muddied corset, "And that isn't going to do much considering that asshole cut the strings." A pause. Thanks for letting him go, by the way," she added sarcastically.
 
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