Open Street, Southport, New Jersey.....
After leaving Charlotte's place, Ron had been in something of a foul mood. The encroaching stressors of having impending fatherhood and his curious position as guardian for the daughter of a known werewolf hunter had been nothing short of stress-inducing as of late and coupled with his already structured career, the departure of Talia, and the sorted affair with Oliver, the handsome brute had his fair share of issues to sort out. He had gotten halfway toward his street when he heard the rumbling of footsteps that had been much too odd to have come from a mortal and narrowed his eyes. The foul stench of death and decay had been on the wind as Ron took note and he readied himself for battle as a swift breeze came barreling at him in the middle of the street. He had seemingly maneuvered just in time as the weight of a vengeful bloodsucker had nearly been upon him as he sidestepped and ended up slamming the snarling blood fiend onto the cold hard asphalt.
A hiss escaped the rancid stench stench-carrying blood fiend as it hunched over on improperly bent legs snarling and clawing at the air as its beedy bloodshot eyes glowed with rage and it attempted to lung at Ron once again. Just as before, Ron had been at the ready, his muscles ripped via tension as he moved about with a kind of unseemly grace in his mortal form, as his eyes began to glow the same eerie red that meant his bloodlust had been active, but this time for the right sort of prey.
Up close, Ron could see the familiar translucent wild eyes and sickeningly pale flesh that seemed to have been rotting from the bones of whatever being it had once been before undeath despite the shape of it appearing to be more along the lines of a flesh-melted skeleton. The rumbling of a growl erupted from Ron Hemming as he and the creature went toe to toe, it attempted to swipe at his flesh in a bid to dig its grotesque claws into him but Ron countered with heavy blows to the face and head causing it to stumble and attempt to scramble out of his line of fire.
The fiend hissed again as it lunged a third time trying to propel its twisted body at Ron to knock him off balance, but the wolf was much too swift and slammed the creature once again after catching it mid-air and snapped its neck on the hard asphalt. The blows passed between the blood fiend and Ron Hemming were heard throughout the street as they ended up in a rapid-fire chase along the block where Ron ended up slamming the creature head first into the side of a building as it caught him with a right of its own in the stomach, but not enough to cut through the fabric of his attire.
Ron quickly flipped the flailing monster onto its back as they once more stood apart glaring at each other with murderous intent. The swift-moving werewolf suddenly struck the ground with his hands as his more feral nature came into play shifting him slightlintoin his mortal-feral form as his eyes continued to glow red and his blood lust increased. He growled once more and charged the blood fiend who had been no match for the beast even in a moderate display of his power.
The brute ripped the weaker blood fiend to shreds tearing it limb from limb and gutting it with a decisive blow through the gut and ribcage. The rabid monster twitched and hissed as it died its black blood oozing along the arm of the feral brute as he stood in the center of the street and a triumphant howl echoed through the night as it crushed the bits of blood fiend corpse via his foot and took in the rich scent of the night as well as the rancid stench of decay from the now immobilized corpse creature.
Ron took off running at top speed, his instinct and the impulsiveness of his rapidly switched lust had only one thing on his mind as he scaled the tops of buildings clawing into the metal and glass with ea,se and leaped as if it had been second nature from roof top to roof top until he came to the familiar building a few blocks from his apartment building which had been clear for the time being.
He rushed over toward his building and sat perched on top of it in search of another bloodsucker to send to a long overdue grave but there had not seemed to be any out. His constant killing of them had forced them to rethink their strategy of approach as the nights passed and they were well aware that entering the territory of a prowling werewolf had been a death sentence even for those who had been undead.
The first light from the sun signaled that his need for patrol had been over for the evening and the feral brute scaled his building once more and climbed through his bedroom window where he collapsed onto the floor as his shift cycle ended and he was once more mortal in appearance and winded from his battle with the blood fiend.
Ron lay on the floor of his bedroom and stared up at the ceiling. He could hear faint whimpering and moans as he moved about the room crawling toward the door as the scent of arousal hit him in waves. He let out a low growl and nearly charged into the second bedroom before he caught himself and noted hin arousal as his keen ears continued to pick up on the moaning from the second bedroom.
It was Savannah.
She'd been the only scent in the house other than his own and she'd been given to stimulating herself in the dead of night. Ron smirked despite the whimper that escaped him from the need she had inadvertently awoken in him and he turned back toward hin bed and stripped down to nothing as he tossed the discarded clothes onto the floor and climbed onto the mattress.
His sweat-slick body glistened slightly in the early morning light as he layed on his back and adjusted his ears to listen in on her in the second bedroom. It was like music to his ears after all he had endured that day and once she'd been done he drifted off to sleep with thoughts of Savannah Harlowe in his mind.